


You're Cordially Invited

by cheeseburgersmakemeveryhappy



Series: Announcements!Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Domestic, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Humor, Kissing, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Making Love, Mpreg, Omega Castiel, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Romance, Smut, Top Dean, Top Dean Winchester, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:56:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5762059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeseburgersmakemeveryhappy/pseuds/cheeseburgersmakemeveryhappy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Two of "SMO Seeks SMA" (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5197862/chapters/11979044) where Cas and Dean are expecting, unexpectedly find themselves engaged, and need to get this wedding ball rolling before Cas pops a pup.</p><p>You are a smart cookie and probably don't HAVE to read SMO Seeks SMA, but its fun and you're gonna like it, and then you'll get the inside jokes here. ; )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. April

It’s about 8:00 pm on Monday night and they’re over at Sam’s. Even though their bellies are full from Jess’ Mexican lasagna that doesn’t keep them from slices of Cas’ homemade blueberry pie. Dean stands up and leaves the living room where the four of them are watching _Big Bang Theory_ to take a call from Bobby because apparently Garth is still inside Janice Sweeney’s Mazda. Dean excuses himself to Sam’s office to spare the others from a rousing game of “20 Automotive Questions,” but after thirty fruitless minutes he tells Bobby to send Garth home; he’ll take a look at the car himself in the morning.

So he’s coming back down the hall, passing the guest bathroom, when he’s hit with the scent of Omega in distress and sick just before hearing what has become a very familiar sound -- full-on barfing. _Crap_ , he thinks, leaning against the bathroom door. Cas had been keeping his dinners down for the last week, morning sickness finally contained to the morning, so this was definitely a step backwards. “Sweetheart, do you need me to get you anything? You want some water or a cracker? I’m sure there’s something in the kitchen.” He hears a toilet flush and the sink turn on. “Cas?” he tries again. After another 45 seconds of silence, the door opens.

It’s not Cas.

Dean turns concerned eyes on his brother’s fiancé. Jess looks exhausted, dark circles apparent under her clear blue eyes, and he wonders why he hadn’t noticed them during dinner. She looks at him with a tinge of fear, tears threatening to spill over, so Dean just opens his arms and holds her close, letting her sniffle on his gray Henley.

“I’m guessing this isn’t food poisoning,” he chuckles softly.

Jess shakes her head “no” against his chest and inhales a ragged breath.

Dean tries for a little comedy. “You know, they make this thing. It’s called a condom. Pain in the ass, but it’s been known to keep these things from happening.” Jess sighs as he rubs her back. “Hey, have you told Sam? He’s gonna be so happy, Jess.” Dean pulls back to look in his soon-to-be sister-in-law’s eyes. “Are you happy?”

She rubs her nose against the back of her hand and shrugs. Then she looks up at Dean and the dam breaks. Jess is silently crying, big tears falling down her pale cheeks, so Dean holds her close and concentrates on sending out Alpha calming vibes. He knows that she needs this from Sam, not him, but he leans down to tuck Jess’ head into the crook of his neck so she can scent him, pull some of that in and steady herself.

“Why not, sis?” he asks quietly.

After an eternity, during which Dean is almost afraid of her answer and how much this is going to break his brother’s heart, Jess mumbles something into his shirt that he can’t make out.

“Hmm?”

“I can’t walk down the aisle in a maternity dress,” she whispers.

Of course. Jess and Sam are already knee-deep in planning their September wedding. Contracts for the location, DJ and flowers are signed because his pre-teen girl of a baby brother spends as much time reading _Omega Bride_ magazine as Jess does.

But it’s the last thing Dean expects to hear. He was sure it was going to be “It’s too soon,” or “I’m too young,” or “My career is too important right now,” or even “We can’t afford a pup,” which would have been total crap, by the way. Dean’s mind dishes Jess up with a bloated belly and bare feet, waddling down the aisle, and he starts laughing until he can’t stop. The unmistakable scent of Alpha happiness finally gets to Jess too and they both have the giggles. Dean kisses the top of her head when she’s calm enough that the aroma of ripe peaches and a little something sweeter (and damn, why didn’t he catch that earlier too?) surrounds him.

“Let’s go tell Samsquatch,” he says, nudging her in front of him and down the hall.

So that’s why Dean’s siding up to Cas four nights later with a big bowl of cookies and cream ice cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. Castiel gives him a quizzical look because Dean knows that Cas is trying to keep the calories down and eat a wholesome diet that’s all bean sprouts and free-range chicken or whatever the hell else Sam’s convinced his mate that he needs to eat “for the pup.” Dean’s sure it’s because Jess has become a complete carnivore and Sam is lonely in his tofu. Unfortunately Cas is all over it, even when Dean tells him that cravings are good because that’s how the baby tells him that it _needs_ ice cream and chocolate sauce and whipped cream.

Dean holds out a loaded spoonful and Cas takes it warily. “What’s this all about, Dean?” he asks. Dean smiles as his mate swallows the offered treat with a sigh and closed eyes and counts that as a win.

“I was thinking that we haven’t gone on a road trip together yet,” Dean begins, offering another bite of ice cream. “You know, just you and me, driving across the country in the most beautiful car, soaking up the scenery.”

Cas takes the bowl and spoon and Dean knows that he’s been caught because he’s so friggin transparent that he can’t ever get one over on Cas. But instead of putting the bribe on the coffee table, Cas looks thoughtful as he scoops ice cream back onto the spoon and dips it into the chocolate sauce. Dean’s heart soars and he presses on.

“Why mess with flying to Vegas when the airline’s just gonna lose our luggage and we’ll be crammed into teeny seats next to some stranger who’s hacking up a lung and getting germs all over you and the pup,” he continues, “when instead you can stretch out in the Impala and we can really _experience_ Colorado and Utah. Rocky Mountains are beautiful, sweetheart. I can’t wait to show them to you.”

Cas is avoiding eye contact, pensively eating ice cream. “Hmmm,” he replies.

Dean’s feeling very confident at this point. “It’s only about 20 hours,” he explains. “We can spend the night in Breckenridge or Denver. Or if the weather’s bad we’ll go south through the panhandles and Albuquerque. They’re both great drives. Beautiful stuff, Cas.”

“And this has nothing to do with your aversion to flying, Dean?” Castiel asks, his blue eyes twinkling with the knowledge that yes, Dean is ridiculous in trying to convince him that this idea is for Cas’ benefit. “You want to _give me_ 20 hours in a car with an untold number of bathroom stops in questionable gas stations across the country? And I would have to take what, two extra days off from work?”

“Uh,” Dean says eloquently.

“You’re so good to me,” Castiel smirks sarcastically.

“Well, yeah, Cas, I am. Airports and planes are crap and, come on, man. Driving is much safer. I know you’d rather listen to me sing ‘70s rock ballads to you for hours, right? Oh! Cas, think of the road head!”

Cas shoots Dean a withering gaze as he sucks on a spoonful of ice cream, and Dean belatedly considers that “road head” may not have been the best closer.

“Me! I’ll be giving _you_ road head, Cas. You know, after the bathroom stops.” Yeah, should have thought that one through. Thankfully, inspiration hits. “Sweetheart, we can take pictures the whole way and have a travel album for the pup! That’s cool, right?”

His mate swipes a finger through a clump of whipped cream and holds it in front of his own lips, contemplating its mysteries. Dean’s focus shifts and he subconsciously licks his lips as Cas slowly sucks the white fluff into his mouth before setting the bowl and spoon down. Now Dean knows it’s a lost cause and it’s time to check flight prices, and do they sell those little bottles of booze on airlines anymore, and he’s pissed at himself for the road head crack but then Cas is in his lap, piercing blue eyes on his.

“I’m picking the music, Dean,” Castiel informs him, his deep voice serious as cancer.

Dean shakes his head and smiles. God he loves Cas. “Driver picks the music, Cas. Shotgun…”

Cas’ finger presses against Dean’s lips. “I would choose your next words very carefully, Winchester,” he warns.

They end up taking I-70 through Kansas, Colorado and halfway through Utah before dipping southwest on I-15 into Nevada. Kansas gas station bathrooms are indeed questionable but Cas snaps a selfie of himself and Dean in front of the “Colorful Colorado” sign before they find a deserted rest stop so Dean can make good on his promise. It takes Dean five minutes to coax Cas into leaning back against the passenger door and unzipping his fly, and ten minutes after that for Cas to finally accept that the Impala’s windows are indeed streak free but that part of the allure of road head is the danger of getting caught. Dean’s leaning across Cas’ lap, trying not to smile with pride when Cas comes with a shout in Dean’s mouth, his strong hands instinctively reaching for Dean’s ears.

It’s a bit later when they’re back on the road, tall pine trees like soldiers lining the highway under a sky so blue it must be Photoshopped, and Dean really looks at the 36-year-old man by his side. Cas is wearing his tan trench coat, no surprise, and yawning as he flips through the small box that contains their limited musical options. This gorgeous, nearly six-foot-tall Omega with his crazy brown hair and beautiful smile is three months pregnant with Dean’s child, and Dean knows Cas is fighting fatigue and nausea while his long legs get stiff after hours in the car. Castiel catches him staring and smiles, and Dean knows that it’s because Cas loves Jess and Sam like his own family and would do anything for Dean that he endures all of this crap. Because Dean is just too chicken shit to fly, unlike every other normal person who needs to get his ass to Vegas to be the best man in his brother’s impromptu shotgun wedding. And Dean loves Cas for that. He really does.

Denver traffic is horrible, but the Holiday Inn Express off Hampton is clean and surprisingly impressive for the price. They take another photo of themselves in the hotel pool before hitting the hay. Dean watches sitcoms in the dark with the volume turned down, his hand absentmindedly petting Cas’ hair, and sends thanks out into the universe for the man curled into his side like he does every night, not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

The chapel is awesome in its cheesiness. They’re milling around in the front room, waiting their turn, and Dean hasn’t stopped smiling since he learned that Jon Bon Jovi got married in what he now calls “this holy space.” Dean tells Sam he should feel honored to walk on the same carpet. Jess’ folks flew in as well and now the six of them stand around as a very young Frank Sinatra look-alike sings “Death of a Bachelor” by Panic! At the Disco and Jess giggles through her tears. It’s hilarious and crazy and honestly so not-Sam that Dean can’t help but shake his head.

Dean’s staring at the rings in his palm and waiting for his cue when it occurs to him that maybe he and Cas did it all backwards. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby blah blah blah. But he and Cas fell hard, mated quickly and are about to be parents, all within seven months. Truly Dean’s never really thought that marriage made sense when you’re an Alpha; it’s all about finding your mate and sharing that bite, that bond. But Jess’ eyes are shining and Sam’s probably going to pass out in another five minutes and it’s all so damn _meaningful_. So Dean looks at Cas and opens the bond between them, sending love and anxiety to Cas, who he’s called “the best man’s best man” since dinner last night. Castiel’s head snaps up and he looks Dean in the eye, questioning the emotions Dean’s sending him. Dean shrugs. They’ll talk about it later.

And now they’re at the Luxor’s buffet. Sam’s got grilled salmon and baby bib arugula something salad with walnuts and craisins or some shit like that. Jess, bless her, is going for prime rib with creamy horseradish sauce. Dean’s plate is piled high with a crap ton of King crab legs while Cas has four small lumps of food arranged in a circle, equal parts protein, vegetable, starch and salad, and the smallest cup of ice milk Dean has ever seen next to an adult.

“That was so much fun, honey!” Mrs. Moore laughs. “I have always wondered about a Vegas wedding! That young man who sang like Frank Sinatra was spot on!”

“Wasn’t he great?” Jess agrees, her eyes constantly catching on Sam’s like it’s their first date and they haven’t been screwing like bunnies for months.

“Why don’t you guys get married while we’re here?” Sam asks, kicking Dean under the table. Dean looks at Cas because his stupid kid brother just read his mind and he wonders if that’s something Cas wants. Dean’s kind of warming up to the idea.

Castiel smiles and says, “This was a wonderful ceremony, Sam, but I really want an old-fashioned, traditional wedding with tuxes, and a tiered wedding cake, and my niece throwing rose petals.” He turns to Dean and squeezes his thigh under the table. “What about you Dean? Do you ever think about getting married?”

Everyone’s looking at him and Dean feels his ears turning a little red under the scrutiny, but then he remembers that this is his family now too. He thinks of Bobby and Benny back home though and believe it or not, Gabe and Kali, and has to agree. “Yeah, I think we should have your family and our friends there, Cas,” he offers as he cracks into a crab leg.

“You know,” Jess says slowly, “you could just take our date.” Now all eyes are on her as she looks at Sam and then back at Cas. “I haven’t cancelled anything yet. I’m sure the restaurant, DJ and florist wouldn’t mind.”

“What do you think, Dean?” Cas asks, and no one else can tell, but Dean knows Cas is holding his breath so he puts down the crab leg to show he’s taking this conversation seriously and wipes his hands on his napkin.

“Do you honestly think that September 17th doesn’t get us too close to the pup’s due date?” Dean questions. “That’s my only real concern.”

“No, Dean,” Cas smiles, and Dean’s flooded with Cas’ happiness, unbridled joy at this turn of events. “I think it will be just fine.”

“Then I think it’s a no-brainer. Let’s get hitched, Cas,” Dean says. Like it’s no big deal. Like it’s making dinner reservations at Outback Steak House. But it’s not. It’s so much more. It’s saying that even though they are committed forever as mates and as dads to the little pup Cas is carrying around, that they want to share this with their friends and families. And Dean wants everyone to know Cas is his and he belongs to Cas.

It really is a no-brainer.

And he’s getting married.

Un-fucking-believable.

So Dean’s smiling.


	2. Monday

Castiel yawns, reflexively covering his mouth even though he’s alone in his office with no one to offend. He’s exhausted. Even his toenails feel tired. He can’t remember a time when he’s needed to sleep like this, not even after pulling an all-nighter studying for college finals. Thank God this is basically his last week. He and Dean are getting married on Saturday and he’s taking a week of vacation for their honeymoon but then he’s coming back for one day before his maternity leave kicks in.

 _Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes for a moment_ , he thinks, leaning his head back against the black padded office chair. He loosens his tie just a bit and starts some deep breathing exercises he learned in Lamaze class. He closes his eyes and exhales.

God, he misses coffee right now. Which has Castiel thinking about the beverages being served at the reception because he and Dean are still arguing the merits of a closed versus open bar. Which reminds him that he still hasn’t heard from Gabe about the final location of the bachelor’s party his brother and Sam are throwing. Which has him wondering if Sam has received a call from the tailor about his tux. He opens his eyes with a sigh. It’s no use. Besides he’s at work and if his internal clock is still accurately ticking, only 24 minutes away from an important team meeting. So he shakes his head to try and clear the cobwebs and re-focus on the task at hand.

Castiel’s apparently sleep-writing an email to his parents. His mother Naomi, a surgeon specializing in facial reconstruction, and his father Chuck, an obstetrician for over 30 years, are volunteering their time in Central America with the Doctors Without Borders program. This is their third trip in ten years and their longest; they’ve been in the jungle since January and won’t return until Christmas.

When he and Dean took over Sam and Jess’ wedding date, Castiel’s parents were so happy for him and overjoyed to be part of the festivities. Then a week later they sent an email saying that after checking with their coordinator they were sorry to report that they could only break their contract if there was a death in the family. Obviously Castiel was crushed because having his family close for the wedding and the baby’s birth means everything to him. But really, nothing can be done about it so he relies on emails to keep his parents in the loop. He plans to see them via a Skype call before the rehearsal dinner on Friday.

 _From:_ [ _Castiel.Novak@corcadia.com_ ](mailto:Castiel.Novak@corcadia.com)

_To: BabyDocChuck@gmail.com_

_Dad:_

_Well this is it! It’s the week of the wedding! To be honest, I can’t believe that it’s finally here. Everything is on schedule. Gabriel still calls me “Bridezilla” even though we have had no wedding drama as of yet, for which I am eternally grateful. Michael says Melanie’s very excited about her pretty new dress and being able to throw rose petals. And Sam assures me that there will be no strippers at the bachelor’s party Friday night, but Gabriel’s co-hosting so I really can’t believe him._

_On the baby front, I am exhausted beyond belief. In fact I just about fell asleep at my desk this morning. I honestly feel like a beached whale at this point. Just between us, I can’t figure out how to sleep anymore so I just doze and never get the rest that I know the baby and I need. And my hormones are all over the map. One minute I’m crying and the next I’m having a hard time concentrating due to overwhelming biological urges. I don’t know how Dean puts up with it._

_I miss you, Dad. I hope this email finds you and Mom well. It goes without saying that I worry about you both but am, as always, so proud of what you are accomplishing in Nicaragua. I know that you are in good hands, but please keep each other safe. And email Anna. I know she worries about you._

_Much love,_

_Castiel_

He clicks the Send button and yawns again.

It was perfectly normal to fall asleep on his feet during his first trimester but he’s eight months in now; it’s the final stretch. He’s so huge and exhausted, but that’s only 75% of the problem. Alone in his office with his arms resting atop the planet that occupies his abdomen while the tiny life he’s now forever responsible for kicks him gently in the ribs, every fear that keeps Castiel up at night rushes at him.

 _I’m too old for this_ , he worries. _The only thing I know about babies comes from books and magazines. What if I drop the pup? What if I can’t nurse? How do you make a baby stop crying? Sam recommends cloth diapers but Dean thinks they’re disgusting. How the_ hell _will I possibly survive actually giving birth? I just want to take a deep breath again before I die. What if the pup hates me and I’m a terrible father? We don’t even have names picked. I’m going to give birth in a month and we don’t have names picked out._

Castiel glances at the clock in the bottom corner of his computer and realizes that it’s only 10:17 in the morning. He can smell his own despair as he sniffs up a tear, putting an elbow on his desk and rubbing the space between his eyebrows with the back of his thumb. _It’s just_ _hormones_ , he reminds himself. It better be or the alternative is that he’s having a full-blown panic attack. He closes his eyes and is about to call on the bond because right now he’s a mess and if he connects with his mate and shares all of these ridiculous fears and anxieties, Dean will know exactly how to make Castiel feel safe and loved, when the pup kicks again.

He can’t help but smile. Castiel pictures the baby curled in a ball, sucking a thumb while trying to stretch out a little leg. Without thinking about it, Cas reaches out in his mind to talk to his unborn child and suddenly feels warm, happy and safe. He freezes because those are not his feelings and they are not Dean’s.

“Cas?” a soft voice asks.

Castiel’s head jerks up as he meets Jess’ eyes, which quickly turn from fondness to concern. She steps inside his office and closes the door, trying to make sense out of the myriad emotions swirling around her boss/friend. “What’s wrong?” she frets.

He knows his eyes must be as wide as saucers, but Castiel is actually afraid to speak for fear of breaking the fragile tether that is currently allowing him to actively communicate with the baby inside his body.

“Is everything okay?” she demands, moving in close now and instinctively touching her own baby bump.

He swallows. “I can sense the pup,” he whispers. “Through the bond, Jess. The baby feels…warm and happy.” And then Castiel smiles, the sour pheromones he’s been leaking from his pores dissipating as he realizes that he knows what his pup is experiencing at this exact moment.

“No shit?” Jess replies in awe. She quickly blushes. “I’m so sorry, Castiel. That was not work appropriate! Are you sure?”

He’s nodding his head because in that instant he knows that everything is okay – the pup is okay. Then he gets a great idea. “I’m going to send something back.” Jess nods her approval and watches as Castiel closes his eyes and concentrates. He imagines holding onto that little lifeline and gently sending love and happiness back. Jess gasps as Castiel feels what she sees – a tiny hand pushing against his belly from the inside.

Jess leans back against his desk with her hand over her mouth. “Holy shit Cas!” Then they’re both grinning like idiots at each other. “Hey, bring Dean in and see if he can sense it too! Like a three-way call!”

Smiling, Castiel reaches for his phone and dials. After three seconds Dean’s voice is on the line.

“Heya Cas! How are you…”

“Dean!” Cas interrupts. “I can sense the pup. The baby is telling me how it feels!”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Reach out to me. Maybe you can feel it when we’re connected.”

There’s silence on the line while Castiel’s eyes are trained on Jess’ and he continues to trickle love and affection to the baby. Then Dean is present, quiet excitement thrumming in the back of Castiel’s brain. He stops pushing his emotions and the void is filled with the pup, who is apparently now feeling restricted and slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh my God, Cas,” Dean whispers. “Wow. He’s a little cramped in there, huh?”

“Dean, the baby’s okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah he is.” Dean’s relief pours through the bond.

Then Cas feels Dean sending just a little bit of pride and excitement and he knows it’s not intended for him. When Dean stops, there’s a responding feeling of excitement and happiness.

“Unbelievable,” Dean says softly.

“Dean, how soon can you get home? Can you take a half day? Tell Bobby what’s happening. I know he’ll…”

“I’ll bring burgers, Cas. I’ll get there by 1 o’clock, okay?”

“Yes.” Castiel feels so many emotions welling up that his heart might burst. The tears start. “I have to stop now Dean because I’m crying. I can’t hold a project review meeting when I’m crying.”

His mate laughs. “I’ll see you for lunch, gorgeous.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Chuck, are you hearing this?”

Naomi Novak sits on a cot, fiddling with the tuner knob on the portable wideband radio that is her constant companion. She wipes beads of perspiration from her forehead as she looks up at her husband who’s sitting at a table fifteen feet away from her, surrounded by patient forms. She frowns, taking a second to register how rumpled his clothes are, his white cotton shirt sticking to his back as he swats at either real or imagined insects that keep him from concentrating. Chuck is obviously aggravated by something as he shuffles papers around the table.

Blinking, Naomi takes a second to stretch her neck from side to side in an attempt to loosen stiff muscles. It’s stiflingly hot and the humidity is so high that she’s almost certain she’s grown gills. The air is thick with it. Truly, it’s beautiful here; she’s never seen so many shades of green. The flora defies belief, what with plant leaves the size of her head winding around tree trunks just outside their tent. And the people are so kind despite the hardships they endure.

She finished a four-hour soft palette reconstruction surgery on a ten-year-old girl only 45 minutes earlier and is trying to relax and hydrate, an almost impossibility in the Nicaraguan summer, but something on the weather band caught her attention. There it is again. “Charles!” she says pointedly, finally getting her mate’s attention. Chuck looks up in confusion. “Listen!”

A tinny, computerized recording fills the doctors’ tent. “A tropical depression is likely to hit the coast of Nicaragua on Wednesday, September 14th with wind gusts up to 60 miles per hour and precipitation projected at seven to ten inches.”

Chucks eyes widen instantly and the tent fills with his concern. He pushes his chair back from the table and makes his way over to his wife, hesitantly placing his hands on her shoulders. He knows Naomi isn’t a “toucher,” but he also knows that she probably needs a little physical reassurance. Tropical depressions in the tropics easily become hurricanes, and hurricanes spell trouble for not only the doctors but obviously, the locals. Naomi tilts her head back to make eye contact with her husband. They exchange a meaningful look.

“We’ll just have to monitor it,” Chuck says, his frustration spilling out even though he thought he was keeping his emotions contained.

“Shit,” Naomi mutters under her breath, shaking her head. It’s not like her to swear and her husband gives her shoulders a little squeeze before lightly kissing the messy bun on the top of her head. She places her hand on top of one of Chuck's.

This could ruin everything.


	3. Tuesday

“You ready, sweetheart?”

Dean leans against the door jamb and watches Castiel evaluate himself in the bathroom mirror. Dean can’t help a small smile as his mate huffs out a frustrated sigh at his profile. Castiel’s hands smooth down his blue striped button-down shirt, tugging gently at the hem in the front and then the back. His sleeves are cuffed above toned forearms, and the first two buttons are undone, exposing a small “v” of lightly tanned skin at his neck. The color highlights Cas’ eyes and complements his dark hair.

There isn’t anything reflected in that mirror that doesn’t do something for Dean.

Nervously, Cas smooths the shirt again, as if pulling it makes his pregnancy less obvious. As far as Dean’s concerned, Cas looks more gorgeous as his belly grows. He can’t seem to get that point across, though, and Cas frets in silence, too caught up in his head to hear Dean’s question. His insecurity settles around him like a blanket and it’s tearing Dean apart, so Dean hopes that he can get his mate’s mind off of his troubles and help him see what Dean sees in that five-foot-long mirror.

He steps into the bathroom and places his hand at Castiel’s back. Cas jerks out of his reverie and offers a sigh of resignation. “I apologize, Dean. Have you been waiting long?” he asks.

Dean is silent, moving behind Cas to slide both his hands around Cas’ middle and kiss his temple. He softly rubs his thumbs back and forth against the “baby ball” before slipping his fingers under Cas’ pressed shirt. His mate’s skin is warm and smooth and Dean splays out his hands as he gently massages the two things in this world he would gladly die for.

“Have I told you how much I love you today?” he whispers in Cas’ ear. Cas shakes his head but offers a little grin. He knows this is one of Dean’s favorite things. It’s one of his own as well, particularly now that he’s tired and fat and his ankles are swollen. “Have I told you how amazing you are, going through all of this for me, for us? So proud of you, Cas, enduring all of this crap to give me a family.”

“Well it’s not…”

“Shhh and just listen for a second,” Dean admonishes. “You are so dedicated, eating fucking ‘well-balanced meals’ every day, carrying this load around,” he gives Cas’ belly a little squeeze, “putting up with the hormones and not sleeping right. I would be a complaining, whining, pain-in-the-ass but not you. I get that your body’s designed for this and mine’s not but Cas, this is a big deal for anyone to go through. And you’re doing it for us and little Han Solo in here.”

They lock eyes in the bathroom mirror and Dean wonders if he’s getting through. Cas lets out a breath and tries not to get misty as the anxiety starts to lessen.

“I know that you’ve got this, Cas. And I know you’re not scared or anything,” and Dean’s making sure that Cas is looking at him now, “but I would be. So you tell me about that, okay? ‘Cause you and me are in this together. You know I would take over for you in a heartbeat if I could.”

Castiel turns and faces his mate. “I know. Dean, I am scared about many things – many, many things – but I wouldn’t trade this for the world. I’m not sure that I’m going to be on board for 16 more pups,” and now they’re both smiling, remembering Dean’s frantic promise their first time together, “but…I’m not as scared when you’re here.”

“We will figure this out,” Dean agrees, his fingers slowly unbuttoning the blue shirt. Cas quirks his head and smiles, returning the favor as his scent blooms between them. “Love you, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs into Cas’ neck.

“Why don't you show me.”

“Oh, I’ll _show_ you alright,” Dean chuckles. “In fact, I want you to _see_ it.” He’s sliding Cas’ shirt off and tossing it over the shower door to keep it from wrinkling too much because he knows this man and what’s important to him. He turns Cas to face the mirror again as he stands behind his mate and gently caresses the soft tissue that’s formed around Cas’ nipples before swiping his thumbs across the hardening brown skin. Cas’ breathing is a little quicker and the scent of maple sap and tree bark grows. It’s got Dean fattening up in his slacks, knowing that his partner’s body is responding, wants him. His hands slide lower and one stays cupped at the bottom of Cas’ round abdomen while the other reaches lower to squeeze his mate’s hardening cock through his pants.

He’s whispering in Cas’ ear, his breath hot and urgent. “Look at how fucking beautiful you are.”

Cas is getting a little heady off of the sudden surge of leather scent that wraps around him and the strong, sure grip of Dean’s hand on his dick, but he finds Dean’s eyes in the mirror again and lets his gaze roam his form, trying to remember what he used to look like 33 and a half pounds ago. His self-doubt makes itself known and Dean growls behind him, pushes against Cas’ back hard enough that his hands move to the counter for support.

“Strong muscles in your arms and shoulders,” Dean says. “You could knock me out right now if you wanted. Your eyes, Cas, they make me hard just looking at you. And your mouth, your smile, those lips. I want those on me all the time.” Dean’s hands are unclasping the belt on Cas’ pants now and working down the zipper as he presses against his mate’s ass and Cas pushes back. “Oh yeah,” Dean says under his breath, more to himself than Cas, reveling in the sensation.

The slacks hit the floor, followed quickly by Cas’ boxer briefs, and now he’s bare, completely exposed, while Dean is not. Cas watches as Dean’s heated gaze rakes over him in the mirror. Cas feels himself getting wet and sees the moment Dean realizes it too.

“Dean,” he whispers.

“These legs,” Dean continues after a second’s pause, “I love running my hands over your thighs. But this ass,” and he’s got both of Cas’ cheeks now, kneading them, “this ass is outstanding. Now you watch yourself, Cas. See how sexy you are.” Dean disappears behind his mate and in a heartbeat Cas feels the muscles of his posterior being spread and a hot, wet tongue swiping across his hole.

“Oh shit!” he gasps, closing his eyes at the feeling of Dean at this most intimate part of himself.

As if psychic, Dean lifts his head and, in a voice filled with Alpha power, commands, “Watch, Castiel.”

Cas swallows, a shiver running down his spine as he instinctively tenses and displays his neck, but his eyes stay glued to the mirror. Dean’s hot tongue is back, lapping up the juices that have escaped him and moaning lightly at the taste of Cas’ slick on his tongue. Castiel can’t help but see the flush on his own cheeks, how wide his eyes are, then his hard cock against the swell of his pregnancy. “Oh,” he moans.

Dean smiles at that, then points his tongue and slides it inside Cas’ hot body a few times to try and pull another moan just like it. He’s successful. He continues until the tight muscle he’s working on loosens. Then Dean puts two of his fingers in his mouth before sliding them easily into Cas, who groans his name in response. Castiel clenches around them then releases, enjoying the feeling of participating in this part, letting Dean know that he wants more. So Dean slides the two fingers in and out several times before adding a third and gently twisting and stretching Cas’ insides to make room. Castiel is panting at this point and slick is slowly dripping down Dean’s hand.

“I think you’re ready for me,” Dean observes wryly. He wipes his hand on Cas’ ass for effect and catches his mate’s eyes in the mirror. He can’t help but grin widely at the absolutely wild look on Cas’ face, like he’s never had this before and Dean’s going to show him the secret to the universe. And Dean wants to do just that when it occurs to him that he never wants to forget what Cas looks like when he slides in. And he doesn’t have to. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and places it on the counter as Cas tracks his movements and gulps.

“I’m going to take two videos, Cas,” he says, voice husky. This is new and exciting and if it doesn’t bring the point home that Cas is the sexiest thing on the planet he doesn’t know what will. Dean unzips his pants and pulls his hard, hard cock out of his underwear. Their eyes are locked in the mirror and the picture they present looks fucking insanely hot – Cas debauched and desperate for him, completely naked, while Dean’s shirt is open but he’s otherwise clothed and about to take what’s his. His cock leaks at the image and he grabs his phone. He’s sliding his dick through the wet of the crack of Cas’ ass on autopilot while he opens up the camera app and points the phone at the mirror, quickly finding the right shot. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, puts his other hand on Cas’ left shoulder, flips over to video and taps the shutter button. At the same time, he pushes into Cas’ body until he’s flush against the other man’s ass and buried deep. Cas has filled the bathroom with a variety of vowel sounds before Dean remembers to stop the camera. He puts the phone on the counter and rejoins the party.

Castiel struggles to keep his eyes open and fixed on the mirror in front of him because he gets this now, but it’s Dean he can’t take his eyes off of. Yes, his own chest is heaving with every solid thrust and his head is back, neck bared for his Alpha, but when he remembers to look he sees Dean behind him and he almost can’t breathe. There’s a slight sheen of sweat at the base of Dean’s throat, his pupils are blown and his grip on Cas’ shoulder is firm. Cas is certain he has never seen his mate look more glorious.

They’re both panting together, drunk on the sight of themselves claiming each other’s bodies in front of the bathroom mirror, when Dean drops his hand to Cas’ aching dick and strokes him five times in rapid succession. Castiel’s toes curl into the tiled floor for purchase as he arches into Dean’s fist.

“Close! Oh God, Dean! Close!” he yells, and Dean, the bastard, releases him. He whines out loud as Dean reaches for the phone again. “Are you…” he gasps and Dean has the phone in position again. Dean’s gritting his teeth, trying not to come as he grabs a handful of Cas’ dark hair and plows into him.

“Watch!” Dean growls and Castiel is so turned on he can barely stand it. His jaw drops and he watches his body jerk against the onslaught of Dean pistoning into him and he’s almost there. He’s going to come without Dean’s hand on his dick and it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time he’s going to watch it happen. Dean’s grunting behind him and tugging on his hair and Cas can feel his balls tighten, knows it’s time.

“Dean!” he yells and he watches as Dean’s eyes are glued to his and they both see Cas’ cum fly, most covering the expanse of his swollen body but some making it to the bathroom counter. All the while Dean’s got the phone pointed at the mirror, even as he stops moving and curls over Cas' back as he comes, careful not to ram his knot into Cas’ ass because as fantastic as that would feel right now, in the back of his mind Dean remembers that they were supposed to be doing something or going somewhere. Then Dean’s spent and he somehow remembers to turn off the camera before tipping it up on the counter. He releases Cas’ hair and leans his head onto his partner’s back while he tries to regain his sanity.

“Jesus, Cas,” he says through labored breaths. His arms circle around his mate just above the bump and he gives a quick hug as he kisses Cas’ back repeatedly. He leans his head back down for another second, inhales and exhales deeply, and then straightens as he eases out. He catches Cas’ eyes once more in the mirror and smiles big.

Castiel is grinning as well, pleased to support Dean’s weight. His eyes are shining and he looks and smells more than just happy – he’s almost euphoric – and Dean knows his work here is done.

“Show me the video,” Cas says with a smile.


	4. Wednesday

“Let’s start with a final rundown of all outstanding issues now that we are T-3 to liftoff,” Charlie announces, walking among the assembled group and actually passing out copies of a checklist. They’re in Charlie’s apartment, eating pizza and putting the final touches on what she’s nicknamed “Cas and Dean’s Excellent Adventure.”

Benny’s sitting in an overstuffed brown chair. The poster of Princess Leia in a slave girl outfit to his right is the shiny object that keeps distracting him from the conversation. He pries his eyes off it to smile at Charlie as he takes the paper she hands him. Unlike the others in the room on Dean’s side, Benny’s the only one from the garage where Dean works so he glances at the list before looking around to get a bead on everyone else.

He knows that he, Charlie and Jess will be standing up for Dean, with Sam acting as Dean’s best man. Cas has chosen to be surrounded by his siblings, Anna, Hester, Michael and Gabriel. Gabe is Cas’ best man and Anna’s here, but the other two couldn’t make it for some reason that Benny’s not aware of. Maybe they can’t be trusted with these important details or they’re too busy. He doesn’t know. Shit, he’s just met most of these folks a few months ago when Dean surprised the crap out of him by inviting him to be in the wedding party. This is the most responsibility he’s ever been entrusted with as a groomsman; he wants to make damn sure he doesn’t let Dean and the crew down.

Dean’s sitting on the floor at Cas’ feet while his fiancé tries to make the best of a bean bag chair that he will not be able to ultimately escape without assistance. Dot, Charlie’s girlfriend, is sharing the sofa with Jess and Charlie’s cat, Hermione, who has decided to sit on Jess' checklist for safekeeping. Gabe and Sam are at the kitchen table, now fast friends and co-conspirators thanks to the bachelor’s party. Cas keeps glancing over at the two men, wondering what Gabe has convinced Sam would be the most embarrassing, uncomfortable way for him and Dean to spend their last night as “single dudes.” Anna’s also at the table, her covert mission being to pick up additional intel about said bachelor’s party and share it with Castiel once this meeting is over.

“Red, is there an actual diagram on the back?” Dean asks incredulously. “What is this, Mission Impossible?”

“That page will self-destruct once you have decided to accept your mission, green-eyes,” she replies, leaning down to grab another slice of pizza from the coffee table. “And you’re welcome. So! Let’s begin at the beginning. Flowers?”

“Florist is paid,” Jess replies. “Arch decorations and centerpieces will be delivered at 4:30 pm at Powell Gardens. I will meet the florist, pick up the boutonnieres and corsages, and bring them to the wedding party at the dressing rooms by the Vineyard.”

“Check,” Charlie calls out. Everyone present makes a show of placing a check mark in the first box.

“D.J.?”

“Ah, yes,” Anna pipes up. “The D.J. will arrive at the Missouri Barn at 6:30 to set up. He’s been paid as well.”

Charlie smiles at Anna and nods. “Check,” she responds.

“Check,” most of the people in room parrot back. Not Sam and Gabe though, who are drawing what appears to be a map on the back of Sam’s handout while Gabe stuffs the crust from a slice of pepperoni pizza into his mouth. Anna elbows her brother, who mutters “Check” through filled cheeks without looking away from the diagram.

“Cake,” Charlie asks.

“Yup, that’s me,” Dean acknowledges. “Bakery is set. The pies are ordered. No problems there. The cake is also ready to go. They’ve got their money and uh, everything should be delivered and set up at 6:30.”

“Tuxes?”

There’s no response from the group.

“Tuxes?” Charlie asks again, this time louder and staring pointedly at Sam, who is crossing something off on his map and whispering in Gabe’s ear.

“Sammy!” Dean shouts.

The younger Winchester startles and notices that all eyes are staring, including his wife’s. “Sorry! Uh, sorry.” Sam glances at Gabriel, who doesn’t even bother looking guilty for being responsible for Sam’s infraction. Sam clears his throat. “Has everyone been fitted?” Sam sees some heads nodding.

Charlie decides to take control, as is her right as self-appointed Wedding Wrangler. “Raise your hand if you have yet to get your tux fitted,” she demands, eyes scanning the group. Not surprisingly, Sam’s hand is the only one in the air.

“Seriously?” Dean demands. “Dude, you’re friggin’ in charge of this one and you’re the…”

“It’s not my only responsibility, Dean!” Sam shoots back. “Best man over here! Planning your bachelor’s party…”

“What is the status of your tux, Sam?” Castiel asks.

“Uh, they haven’t gotten my pants in yet from Denver, but they’ll be here tomorrow.”

Castiel quirks an eyebrow and looks at Charlie. She’s writing notes on her checklist. “Verify Sam’s gargantuan tux has arrived and that it fits. Coordinate Sam’s flogging with Jess,” she says out loud.

“Check,” Jess replies, shaking her head at Sam. “Gabe?” she calls out.

“Hmm?” Gabriel responds, looking up to identify the slightly unfamiliar voice addressing him.

“Please help my husband remember to call about his tux tomorrow? You talk to him more than I do at this point.”

“Damn, Samster!” Gabriel smiles, elbowing Sam. “She’s feisty! I was hoping you were going to ask me to help with the flogging.”

“What?! No!” Sam complains, his cheeks turning red. “Dude!” he adds, giving Gabriel a shove that nearly knocks the smaller man off his chair.

“Hey! Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum!” Charlie barks. Both men at the kitchen table stare back. “Report on the bachelor’s party, please. Wait! Review the parameters first. I want to make sure you haven’t forgotten the rules.”

Anna laughs, but a voice from the couch coos, “Mama’s good, huh Hermione? Keeps the naughty muggles on track.” Dot has the cat’s paws in her fingers and is dancing her orange legs as she baby-talks to it and winks at her girlfriend.

Gabriel rolls his eyes while Sam shakes his head.

“No strippers,” Cas says from the bean bag.

“No airplanes,” Dean adds.

“Pregnant-dude friendly,” Sam assures the room, “so no smoking lounges, standing for long periods of time or large crowds.”

“No compromising photos allowed,” Gabe says begrudgingly, and Castiel is very glad he added that one to the list.

“Co-ed itinerary, ‘cause it’s an equal-opportunity shindig,” Benny recites, earning a nod of approval from Dean.

“Check,” Gabriel replies. “Okay, so this guy owes me a favor.”

“Oh crap,” Dean blurts out. “What fell off the back of a truck now, Gabe? You do remember that your wife will be present and I know for certain that she will beat your ass if you…”

“Not to worry, Dean-o! Seriously, this is good stuff. So this guy owes me a favor, and…” Gabriel drags out the suspense, a gleam in his eye.

“And it’s a mystery!” Sam chimes in.

“Hey!” Gabriel exclaims. “Why you gotta steal my moment, man?”

“Well they were getting bored, Gabe,” Sam says.

“Are you watching this?” Charlie says to Jess, pointing her pen at the kitchen table. “Seriously, are you jelly right now, ‘cause I think you might need a bigger bed since your marriage just expanded.”

Dean snorts while Cas tries not to look appalled.

“Gentlemen!” Castiel booms from the bean bag. “What do you mean it’s a mystery? What is the plan?”

The two best men grin at each other and then pull sunglasses from their laps and put them on only to give their best CSI Miami impressions. “There’s been…a fatality,” Sam begins.

“Yeah the party’s a bust ‘cause there won’t _be_ any,” Gabe quips.

“Hey!” the ladies present all say resentfully.

“There will be plenty of busts, Gabriel,” Anna admonishes. “They will just be appropriately covered with more than pasties.”

“Pasties? Jesus, Anna, I’m not talking about a _burlesque_ show,” Gabe taunts back.

“Holy crap on a cracker,” Charlie mutters. “Focus, best men!”

“We’re going to solve a murder, guys,” Sam says loudly. The room quiets down. “The bachelor’s party will be a murder mystery party with a couple of stops along the way. You’re gonna love it!”

“Hmmm,” Cas nods. “That sounds like a…great evening, actually.”

“It was my idea,” Gabe declares.

“What?!” Sam sputters, looking down at his partner in crime. Sam’s face scrunches as he realizes that at some point Gabriel popped a lollipop into his mouth. “Gabe, seriously. We both came up with it,” Sam tells the group. “We’re all going to be at the rehearsal dinner at Giuseppe’s, so when dinner’s done at 9:00 pm, everyone going to the bachelor’s party will get instructions. Folks who aren’t coming to dinner but are invited to the party have all received invites telling them to meet at the restaurant at 9:00.”

Dean turns back to catch Cas’ eye. “I like it. What do you think?”

“That should work well,” Cas answers.

“I should probably mention that our victim is a stripper,” Gabe adds calmly. “We will have to visit her club to interview witnesses…”

“Gabe, ‘no’ means ‘no,’” Charlie says sternly before raising her eyes to Sam. “Sam, you keep your boyfriend on a short leash.”

“Jeez,” Gabriel whines. “It’s okay, Sammykins. I promise to be good.”

Charlie looks back at Jess. “Seriously. Bigger bed and I’m getting you new monogrammed towels with all of your initials to celebrate your polyamorous lifestyle. I suggest you put all of the sugar up high.”

“Careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” Gabriel teases with a wink.

“Benny, how about the rehearsal dinner?” Charlie asks.

Benny straightens in his chair because this is a big deal and he doesn’t want to mess it up. “Giuseppe’s is ready, cher. We have 19 guests comin’, includin’ the out-of-towners and weddin’ party. We have a private room reserved and the head of caterin’ knows the menu Cas picked out – lasagna with meat sauce or vegetarian stuffed shells, salad, those little loaves of bread, and tiramisu,” he explains, ticking each item off on the fingers of his left hand. “We’ve got the place from 7:00 to 9:00 and the deposit’s been made. The remainder will be due when everyone’s full.” Dean and Cas seem happy so he exhales the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Crap this is a lot of responsibility, but “Operation Divide and Conquer” is actually a great way to lessen Cas’ load and make sure everyone feels involved.

Charlie gives him a wink and a shot from her invisible .22. “Cas, you’ve got the last one.”

“The site is set,” Cas assures from the bean bag. “Rehearsal at Powell Gardens starts Friday at 5:30 sharp, _Gabriel_.” Cas’ brother nods his head without looking up again and Cas isn’t sure if he and Sam are still working out details or are merely playing tic-tac-toe. “Dressing rooms will open at 4:30 on Saturday. Guests should start arriving at 5:30. Melanie will start the processional down the walkway at 6:00 and the ceremony will be under the Vineyard arch until 7:00. We’ll do photos while the guests mingle. Then the reception will begin in the Missouri Barn at 8:00. Catering is preparing tilapia or beef medallions. We have 127 RSVPs.”

“Jesus,” Dean whispers under his breath. He sighs realizing that his wedding has turned into a fairly big deal.

Cas gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before continuing. “Then it’s a cash bar…” Dean groans and shakes his head. “and dancing until 12:30 am. There will be champagne for the toast, we’ll have the cake cutting ceremony…”

“Bouquet toss,” Gabriel interrupts from the table.

Cas’ glare should have seriously maimed his brother. “And…” he tries to continue but stops, gasping and protectively covering the pup. Dean’s on his knees and twisted around immediately, scenting pain and anxiety from the man behind him. The entire room seems to be holding its breath. Even Gabe looks at Cas with concerned eyes.

“Cas?” Dean asks, worried, his hand also on his mate’s belly.

“Just false labor,” Cas replies, but his voice is thick and he’s breathing quickly through his nose. Dean’s eyebrows are so high, Cas instinctively reaches out to calm them. “Been happening off and on since Sunday,” he pants. And then it’s over and he relaxes. “Perfectly normal. Doesn’t really hurt.”

“You scared the crap out of me, Cas!” Surprisingly, it’s Charlie and not Dean who makes that comment. “Listen, keep that pup in there until after the wedding. Then you can go into early labor, late labor or Labor Day as far as I’m concerned.”

Sam and Jess exchange concerned glances, both silently agreeing to keep a closer eye on this new wrinkle. Benny just looks uncomfortable.

Cas is about to apologize so Dean stops him from speaking with a frown. “Everyone feel good?” He gets no response. “Great. Charlie, you’ve got this. I’m getting Mr. Novak back home and in bed. Up you go,” he insists, holding his hands out to his mate.

Everyone stands to hug the couple and shake their hands and otherwise shoo them out the door so Dean can get Cas off his feet. They’re standing around looking at each other when Charlie speaks up. “It is me, or did that look like something we should be worried about?”

“Is it normal?” Anna asks.

“Yeah, it’s normal,” Gabriel replies, uncharacteristically serious. He’s got two kids at home so he’s been through this before. “But guys, this is a male Omega pregnancy, so who the fuck knows.”

To his own great surprise, Benny pipes up. “I’ll keep an ear open at work in case Dean gets a call or somethin’. Jess now you work with Cas, right?” Jess nods. “Cas’ll only be there tomorrow, and then he’s off, but you’ll keep a close eye on him, wontcha? And Sam, drop by them tomorrow, eh? I think you boys might want to work up a ‘bachelor’s party time out bench’ for the guy at all the stops y’all have planned.” He makes eye contact with Charlie and adds, “Less stress the better, cher. He’s still a month out, but to Gabriel’s point, male Omega pregnancies are less predictable. Anna, dear, isn’t your sister a doctor?”

“Yes,” Anna says, shaking her head to clear her worried thoughts. “I’ll see what Hester can find out. But I’m sure Cassie’s right and this is normal. We’re probably getting worried for nothing.”

“Let’s hope so,” Charlie sighs. “’Deliver baby’ is not on my checklist, people. Let’s keep it that way.”


	5. Thursday

The first time Castiel sees Jess Thursday morning is at about 8:15. She’s hovering outside his office with a cup in one hand and her cell phone in the other. Castiel can see her through the floor-to-ceiling glass window beside the door. She knocks before entering.

“Morning Cas! How are you?” the blonde asks, setting a steaming to-go cup from their favorite coffee shop on his desk.

He offers her a quizzical smile in reply. “I’m doing fairly well, thank you. What have you brought me?”

“Well I was talking to the barista this morning about how you miss coffee and he mentioned that his pregnant customers usually get caffeine-free chai latte, so I thought I would bring you one. Tell me what you think!”

His smile broadens. “Thank you, Jess,” he replies. Castiel removes the lid and inhales the spicy aroma that greets him. He takes a small sip; it’s sweet and creamy and comforting. Cinnamon, cloves and a hint of anise dance across his tongue and he wishes he had known about the tea about eight or so months ago. Jess grins as she scents his happiness.

“This is wonderful!” he purrs, closing his eyes. He can almost convince himself that this is better than his caramel macchiato. He blinks, eyes shining with gratitude. “I can confidently say that I would drink this even if I wasn’t pregnant. You have made my morning!”

She blushes, pleased that Castiel is happy. “I’m so glad, Cas! I have to tell you that we were all a bit worried about you last night. Did you get any sleep?”

Castiel sighs around his cup. “Not really. It’s quite hard to sleep right now, what with Han Solo pushing on most of my internal organs.”

Jess gives him a surprised look. “You’re kidding, right? Dean’s not making you actually name the pup Han Solo, is he?”

A deep laugh fills the office. “No, we still don’t have names picked out. We’ve got time, I know, but that’s the pup’s nickname right now. A month ago it was Indiana Jones. I think Dean has a Harrison Ford fixation.”

“That doesn’t surprise me too much. Sam says he’s betting on Justin because Dean’s got a man-sized Timberlake crush.”

“Justin would be a fine name,” Castiel muses. He takes another sip and swirls the tea on his tongue before swallowing. “We need to make baby names a higher priority. Perhaps we’ll settle on one on the honeymoon.”

Jess nods. “You know, my mom told me that she used to sleep in Dad’s recliner when she was pregnant and couldn’t get comfortable. And the honeymoon! Are you getting excited about that? The resort in Breckenridge looks beautiful. You’re going to have such a great time. Chocolate and roses, romantic walks in the mountain air, spa treatments, lots of sex…”

“Okay, yes to _almost_ all of those,” he smirks. After a pause he adds, “I’m trying to keep my weight down, so I’ll have to take a pass on the chocolate.”

She laughs and swats at his shoulder. “Enough sex will offset your chocolate intake,” Jess says in a low voice. They both chuckle and she takes that as her cue. “Well let’s make sure your last day at work before the wedding is as pleasant as possible, okay boss?”

“Thank you, Jess, for the chai latte and the advice for better sleep. I will try that tonight.”

Light blue eyes look at him fondly. “Of course. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Castiel gives her another grateful nod and savors his tea as she leaves.

\---------------------

The second time he sees Jess, she's fussing with a small shopping bag at her desk. It’s roughly 10:30 as Castiel walks by on his way to visit the VP of Operations about the upcoming October implementation. He catches Jess’ eye and smiles and she shields the bag with her body a little. It’s none of his business, and Castiel doesn’t think much more about it until he’s back at his desk 30 minutes later. Three small decorated bags sit to the left of his computer keyboard.

He looks around and then out the glass, but there’s no one around. He opens the first to find a small bag of Garden Salsa Sun Chips, his pregnancy guilty pleasure. He looks up smiling and then opens it, popping a chip in his mouth. He’s a little more interested in the bags now and reaches for the middle one. Inside is a small eucalyptus-and-mint-scented travel candle with a screw-on lid. As soon as he opens it he sighs, calmed by the clean and organic aroma. This is one of his favorite finds from the candle shop in the mall and he has several at home.

 _This must be Jess’ doing_ , he thinks. _Maybe Dean’s put her up to it_. Castiel opens the third bag and grins. Inside is a box of caffeine-free chai latte tea and two Hershey’s kisses. There’s a note as well. He unfolds it and laughs out loud.

_“I trust you to work these off tonight! Be good to yourself. Jess”_

Castiel sends Dean a quick text.

**C: Your sister-in-law is being very kind to me today. I am being showered with gifts. Did you ask her to?**

He includes a picture of all of his treasures. After a few minutes he gets a text back.

**D: No but wish I did so I could take credit! Bagel sammich on my desk this am.**

**C: I think our friends are worried**

**D: I think ur right**

**D: Surprised abt choc tho**

**C: I’m to work them off tonight. Will you help?**

**D: ; ) Very personal trainer! <3**

Movement outside his window draws his eye. He catches a glimpse of Jess retreating and rises to go thank her.

“Jess?” he calls out to her. She shoots him a quick smile as she rounds a corner but keeps walking. _Interesting_.

**C: She doesn’t want to talk about it**

**D: Like Secret Santa?**

**C: Secret Santa?**

**D: U don’t know what SS is? Tell u later.**

**D: Gotta go. Luv ya**

**C: Love you too**

\---------------------

The last time Castiel sees Jess on Thursday, he doesn’t see her as much as feel her hand on his back, rubbing small circles and offering quiet, kind words. It’s around 4:15 pm. He’s next to the copier making a final set of packets for the meeting he’ll miss tomorrow when a particularly strong contraction comes out of nowhere. He drops the papers in his hand and doubles over, grabbing onto the machine to steady himself as he pants through it, blinking as he tries to remember how to breathe. Taking classes on how to do just that makes so much sense now. Immediately Jess is behind him and he has a fleeting thought that she’s probably been just out of view most of the day.

“You’re gonna be fine, Cas. Breathe in through your nose for four and out for four,” she whispers in his ear, shielding him from her co-workers. She’s exuding calm and peace for him and Castiel does his best to synch his breathing with hers. And then the contraction ends and Cas slumps against the copier machine in relief.

“How many have you had today?” she asks quietly.

“Five,” he replies.

Jess huffs out a breath. “Time to call the OB?”

“No, I don’t believe so.” Castiel stands and takes a deep, cleansing breath. “Thank you,” he says, squeezing her hand.

She gives Cas a puzzled look before shaking her head. “A due date from the doctor is not a guarantee, Cas. Why not just call? Let them tell you it’s nothing.”

“You’re right, of course,” he answers her, nodding his head in agreement. “I will.”

“Good,” Jess says, greatly reassured. “Can you just go home now? I can take care of the copies, okay?”

Castiel’s relief washes over them both. “Thank you so much, Jess. And thank you for your thoughtfulness today. It really was a great last day before the wedding.”

“It’s my pleasure, Cas. I’m glad I was able to make you smile today.” She watches her almost-brother-in-law try to walk confidently back to his office, but he’s moving slowly and his gait is stiff. She fishes her cell out of her pocket and opens up the group text she’s been updating all day.

**J: 5 today. Just had one. Seem pretty strong. Said he’d call doc. He’s going home.**

\-------------------------------------------

“I’m not a child, Dean. Please do not baby me,” Cas says, waving off Dean’s arm.

“No but you’re about to _have_ a child, Cas. Jesus, just let me take care of you,” Dean huffs. Cas stops short on the stair above him and Dean all but plows into his fiancé’s back. Thankfully he can’t see Cas actually rolling his eyes. He lets Cas get ahead of him by a full step before trudging slowly in his mate’s wake again. “How about a bath? I’ll get those candles from the living room up here. Please, just take a load off.”

Cas is quiet, frustration wafting off of him as he sits heavily on the edge of the bed. He’s irritated because he doesn’t _want_ to be treated like an invalid and he doesn’t _want_ to call the obstetrician. He doesn’t even want to think about the baby right now because he’s getting married in two days. He just needs the next 48 hours to be non-baby, non-contraction and purely wedding-related. He has to make sure that Sam’s tux came in, and that the final count for the RSVPs has been delivered to Powell Gardens, and that Gabriel won’t screw up his bachelor’s party. Because that’s what’s going to happen. Regardless of the rules, Gabe is going to get tacky, busty, beautiful women to parade around without clothes on and they’re going to run their hands all over his mate. And then he’ll get to watch Dean get aroused by curvy strippers while he is just one huge curve.

He’s starting to breathe heavier, leaking irritation and slight panic into the room. He leans down to try and tug off his dress shoe and he can’t reach. Of course he can’t reach. Because he _is_ helpless, like a child, and it makes him suddenly furious. Then a strong hand is guiding his head gently into the crook of a warm neck that smells like leather and comfort and home. Cas realizes that he’s panting and gritting his teeth and his hands are clenched into tight fists. He drops his forehead heavily into Dean’s shoulder and inhales deeply as he tries to calm down.

“I had five contractions today,” he whispers.

Dean stiffens. “Is that normal? You know, a month out?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel answers, his tone defeated and unsure. They sit in silence. “Jess recommended that I call the obstetrician but I just don’t have time. I don’t want to think about it right now. I just want to concentrate on the wedding.” After a pause Cas says, “If you want to go watch female strippers tomorrow night, it’s fine with me.”

It’s such an empty gesture that Dean laughs out loud. “Really? That would be okay with you?”

Cas straightens and he’s mad again. “If you want to watch naked women writhing on poles, please don’t let me get in your way!” he growls.

“Easy, easy, Cas,” Dean coos, shaking his head and chuckling. “I’m not going to watch strippers. I have absolutely no desire to watch strippers. We could watch our video. I would really love that.”

Castiel rolls his eyes again but allows a very small smile. He loves how Dean looks fucking him in that video. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea. He rolls his head from side to side and suddenly he’s hungry and tired and achy. “I’m sorry for being such an ass,” he apologizes.

Dean smiles at that, pulls Cas close again and continues to stroke his hair. “You’re _my_ ass, and it’s perfectly alright. Hey, when did you eat last? Are you hangry right now?”

“Am I what?”

“Hangry. Hungry so you’re blood sugar’s low and it makes you angry…basically, do you need a candy bar?”

“Dean, I’m fairly certain I would kill for a candy bar right now,” he sighs. “But yes, I am hungry and my neck is killing me. And my feet hurt.”

“Okay!” Dean sits up and looks into weary, blue eyes. “Step 1 – get you in a bath; Step 2 – get you a snack; Step 3 – get dinner going; Step 4 – call Charlie for some wedding peace of mind; Step 5 – adore your glorious body; Step 6 – sleep. What do you think?”

“Yes,” he replies, nodding. Dean is now energized and full of purpose, and it occurs to Castiel that Dean _needs_ to take care of him. Castiel’s been making sure that he’s strong at work so his team remains confident in his ability to lead, but he’s exhausted from trying to do the same at home. In an epiphany he realizes that he doesn’t have to. Here he is a pregnant Omega and his Alpha feels worthy and satisfied when caring for him. Castiel chides himself for being so self-absorbed. Dean needs this as much as he does.

So fifteen minutes later Cas is soaking in his big oval tub, surrounded by the smell of eucalyptus and mint. A small plate of crackers, cheese and carrots rests on the floor within easy reach while peaceful and relaxing instrumental music helps him slip into a more meditative state. The achiness has lessened and he feels decidedly less hangry. He sighs heavily and thanks God for his amazing husband. Castiel can’t help but smile at that thought. _In two days Dean will be my husband_ , he reminds himself.

He briefly wonders if perhaps he should wait out the rest of his pregnancy in this tub. He could fill it with pillows and blankets and sleep in here. He yawns as he considers it.

“Don’t fall asleep in there.”

Castiel opens an eyelid he hadn’t realized he’d closed. Dean is leaning against the door jamb in denim and a black, short-sleeved t-shirt and he is just so handsome. In fact, Castiel decides that Dean should be naked so Cas can see all of him and he finds himself almost offended by that t-shirt – he wants to rip it off Dean’s body. And he would if he wasn’t so very comfortable right now. Maybe later, after a nap and dinner. Or dinner and a nap. Either way, that t-shirt will not last the evening if Castiel has any say-so in the matter.

Dean chuckles and it sounds like music.

“Okay, are you drunk right now because you are giving off this kind of hippy-dippy stoned vibe,” Dean smirks, walking over and kneeling next to the tub.

“I think the lack of sleep combined with the relaxing soak have caught up with me, Dean,” Castiel admits. “I’d like to take a nap now, but not on the bed.”

Dean quirks a brow at him.

“Can you get me to the recliner in the basement?”

Dean smiles and places a kiss on Cas’ forehead. “You got it, gorgeous. Let’s get you dried off.”

“What’s for dinner?” he asks. He stands while Dean opens the tub drain. A soft, white towel rubs across his skin and Dean plants small kisses on the newly-dried areas after each pass. He feels like an Egyptian pharaoh as he watches the top of Dean’s head move from a nipple to the dip between his pecs then down the wide expanse of his belly to his hip. He groans as Dean sucks a hickey right there and his hands automatically reach out to touch his mate’s hair before he runs the back of one his hands across the sharp line of Dean’s jaw.

Castiel swallows as arousal and Dean’s tongue affect him. He’s getting wet and Dean knows it too if the movement of two hands to the cleft of his ass are any indication. Then lips ghost over his dick, and it suddenly decides to perk up and pay attention. Castiel’s hands instinctively grip Dean’s shoulders and now he’s anxious about slipping in the tub. He tenses slightly but it’s unnecessary because Dean’s barely straining as he lifts all six feet of Cas up and carries him to the bed.

“Dessert first,” Dean says quietly, his voice deep and sultry. He’s standing, looking down on Cas who’s laying on the comforter with his feet on the floor. “Would you like option one…” Dean asks, rubbing his hand up Cas’ now erect cock, “option two,” and he’s leaning over and breathing out hot air against its tip, “or option three?” Dean steps between Cas’ legs and then reaches down to gently raise them, leaning his body against Cas’ balls and perineum. The intent is clear. Their eyes catch as Dean continues to grind slowly against him.

“Make love to me,” Cas says, his heart beating heavily in his chest. It’s not a request or a demand; there’s no question mark or exclamation point. In fact, he’s not even smiling. It’s just a declaration; it’s what he needs. Dean is his Alpha and wants to provide for him. All Castiel has to do is tell Dean how.

Dean hums his approval into Cas’ left knee. A fluffy pillow slides under his ass, raising him up. Castiel watches Dean calmly remove his t-shirt and he grins in triumph. Then Dean steps out of his jeans and boxer briefs and Castiel sighs, contentment and love swimming around him. He knows without a doubt that Dean will take care of him.

“You are so beautiful,” Castiel murmurs.

Dean sinks to his knees, scoots Cas’ legs over his shoulders, and then ducks his head to taste the Canadian forest-scented slick that’s coating Castiel’s hole. He gently slides his pointer finger inside, tongue licking around his digit and Castiel is lightly moaning and rocking into him, already blissed out, pliant and boneless. He slips in a second finger and works them both.

“Everything about you turns me on, Cas,” Dean promises. “Your taste on my tongue and the feel of you around my fingers, around my cock.” His words elicit a low whine and slick trickles past his fingers into the palm of his hand. He gently removes them and slides his hand over his cock. “Want to make you feel so good, sweetheart. Like you deserve.” Dean smiles as Castiel squirms, hips silently begging for Dean’s fingers to return, but in the meantime Cas’ hole glistens. Dean slides three fingers in and they are instantly coated. He gentles them in and out while he kisses the inside of Cas’ thigh.

Blue eyes meet his as he stands, and the look on Cas’ face amazes him. Cas is panting in anticipation, eyes wide and sweeping across his lover’s body, glancing appreciatively at Dean’s dick before finding a nipple and then Dean’s face. He’s smiling, happiness and desire settling thickly around them both and Dean’s feeling a little tipsy himself. He slips Cas’ knee into the crook of his right arm and with his free hand guides his hard cock into the man below him.

Castiel lets out a breathy moan and closes his eyes as Dean raises his other leg, leans slightly against the edge of the bed and bottoms out. Slow, even thrusts fill him completely before dragging out and coming back, passing over his prostate in gentle waves, nice and easy like the tide. This will be his “happy place” when the contractions really start, he promises himself. He’s making satisfied, soft noises and he feels a little bad for a second as he realizes that he’s not actively participating right now, floating instead on the pleasure that his nerves are sending to his brain.

“So good,” he whispers, reaching out a hand to touch Dean’s thigh and connect with his mate. Castiel’s skin tingles and his own dick leaks as Dean shortens his strokes to pay more attention to that one spot he has committed to memory. “Dean,” he pants, asking for something but he’s not sure what, can only hope to God that Dean knows.

“Breathe through it, Cas,” his Alpha coaches. “It’s gonna feel so good like this. Just breathe.”

So Castiel breathes, tries for inhaling for three beats and exhaling for three beats. Every inhale sends him floating a little higher and he could swear he’s levitating. It’s that sensation plus the exquisite pleasure of Dean taking up every space inside him and the steady rub against his prostate that has him whimpering in a way that would be embarrassing if he let it. He’s chanting Dean’s name as his orgasm builds, coiling tight. It’s taking forever and he feels the tears slide down the sides of his face when Dean’s hand curls around his dick and Castiel comes, gasping as white shoots up his belly.

Dean doesn’t stop until Cas is twitching through his last aftershock and slumps. Dean thrusts faster and then stills as he moans, releasing as deeply as he can. They stay like that for another few seconds before Dean eases out and stumbles into the bathroom, Castiel chuckling as he watches Dean steady himself against the counter. Soon Dean’s back with a warm washcloth and cleaning Castiel off.

“Snuggle with me for a bit?” Dean asks.

“Mmmhmm,” Cas replies.

They crawl under the covers and Dean’s the big spoon. Soon Castiel’s floating in the ocean, sun warm on his skin, rising and falling with the movement of the water.

\--------------------------------------

Dean wakes alone. The digital clock on the nightstand tells him its 10:21. Figuring that Cas must have gotten hungry or is trying to sleep in the recliner, Dean finds a pair of sweats from his dresser and goes downstairs to find his man.

“Are you watching this?”

Dean clears the stairs and rounds the corner into the living room to find Cas pacing nervously in the dark, backlit by the light of the TV. His cell phone is close to his ear and Dean recognizes the Weather Channel’s logo on the set. Castiel is in his favorite pair of pajamas, the ones with big yellow bees and pots of honey, but the smile those usually cause doesn’t come as Dean scents Cas’ concern and fear. All of the tension Dean had worked so hard to erase is back.

“When was the last time you heard from them?” Castiel asks into the phone.

Dean eases behind Cas and stops his frantic movements with a hug. He peers over Cas’ shoulder as the TV shows a computer model of a large, white swirling storm cloud over most of Central America. Then the screen changes into shots of torrential rain and trees being whipped around violently. Cas is still as a pillar in his arms, his breathing momentarily stopped as he spots the footage. Statistics scroll across the bottom of the screen. Dean’s stomach drops. There have already been casualties.

“Anna, what do we do?”


	6. Friday Morning

**_5:13 am_ **

Chuck feels like shit.

Specifically, he feels anxious, stressed out and every one of his 66 years. He rubs the two-day-old stubble on his chin and briefly scents his surroundings, realizing that he’s contributing a strong, “Very Worried Omega” note as he walks the Augusto Sandino International Airport. He cautiously analyzes the way the rain and wind now barely beat at the glass windows that separate what must be 600 people, himself and Naomi included, from Hurricane Christo.

Nervous, blue eyes glance upwards, yet again noticing the airport’s architecture of chrome and natural light. Metal beams that should give off an industrial quality instead remind Chuck of the human skeleton and the fragility of the phalanges bones in the hand. In preparation for Christo’s landfall Wednesday night, all of the Doctors Without Borders personnel were evacuated to the airport along with hundreds of other visitors and some locals. Thank God there were no catastrophic failures in here. No one went into cardiac arrest. Debris didn’t crash into the windows. If some poor person had gone into labor, he would have been ready to jump in and birth a baby, but even that didn’t happen. _Apparently life isn’t like the movies_ , he thinks, because it’s Friday morning and he’s okay, Naomi’s okay, in fact many, many people are just fine.

Well the good news is that the storm has basically passed, but he’s still pacing around, right now focusing on a circular display of busts and counting his steps in a slightly OCD fashion that has kept him sane since he was a teenager. “Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen,” he mutters under his breath, narrowly avoiding a small boy who is pulling his father up close to the platform.

“Quienes son esas personas, papa?” the boy asks, pointing to the bronze heads that sit on white pedestals.

“No se,” his father answers, tired and grumpy just like virtually all of the other people who mill about or lean against walls throughout the concourse. As Chuck walks, he spies small groups hunkering around electrical outlets like they’ve been wandering in the desert for 40 years and have just found the Promised Land. He stops in front of the female statue with long hair, breathes for a count of nine, and then starts walking in the opposite direction. He’s stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“The airline is updating our reservations,” Naomi says without preamble. “It’s just a matter of getting the airport to re-open. Flights are grounded at least until 10:00 pm tonight but I have us re-booked out on an 8:00 am flight in the morning.”

“Well, that’s…wonderful!” her husband replies, his voice conveying guarded optimism. She turns to walk back to the three uncomfortable chairs they have been using as a home base for the last 48 hours, but Chuck reaches out a hand and stills her. “Really, thank you. Will we still make the wedding?”

Naomi offers him a small smile and a shrug. “If things go off without a hitch, which is a very big ‘if’ Charles, we should get into Kansas City, Missouri by 4:30. We then have to rent a car and drive home, shower and change, and then get to Powell Gardens. It’s going to be tight, but I think we may be able to surprise the family _and_ watch our youngest marry his mate.”

The excitement and happiness Chuck exudes is worth the aggravation she’s endured since Christo threw a huge wrench in their plans earlier in the week. Naomi gives Chuck’s shoulder a fond squeeze; he’s always had a soft spot for their only Omega son and she knows how much this means to her husband. She turns again towards their nest of luggage and carry-ons but then thinks better of it. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she warns. “The flights may not get released. The airport may not open. We may not make our connections. There are plenty of opportunities for this big surprise to fall flat. However,” she adds, “barring any more natural disasters, I think we should certainly be able to catch up to everyone at the reception. I know you wanted to be at the rehearsal dinner and the bachelor’s party tonight, but this will have to do.”

“Of course, of course,” Chuck mumbles, rubbing his chin.

When he looks at her again, there’s a sparkle in his eyes that Naomi can’t help but chuckle at. She shakes her head at her mate. “I will do my best to get you to the church on time,” she promises.

Chuck leans in close, skimming her ear with his lips to whisper, “Thank you, Alpha.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies. Naomi allows herself a sigh and remembers that her husband’s pacing usually reflects a need for comfort. “Come sit with me, Charles,” she says and pulls him gently behind her and back to the plastic chairs they’ve lined with shirts from their suitcases.

Chuck eyes the platform, not quite ready to leave but does so anyway. He lets out a huff of air and shakes out his shoulders. It’s not perfect and it may not happen the way they want it to, but they are going to be there to surprise Castiel and celebrate his wedding. He can’t wait to dance at his son’s reception. Thank goodness his tux still fits.

\--------------------------------------

**_10:07 am_ **

When Castiel wakes, he feels more comfortable and rested than he has in literally months. He feels cocooned in warmth and softness, surrounded by his own scent, which immediately startles him. Leather is subdued when it should be just as strong. He opens his eyes and smiles.

He’s in his tub, on top of and surrounded by ten pillows from his basement nest, which explains why his own scent is so predominant. There’s a sheet from downstairs under him and the blanket from their bed over his body and tucked under his chin. He’s propped up rather than flat, but not completely upright so the pup is supported on all sides.

Castiel leans back and scoots under the blanket again, covering up his shoulders and closing his eyes. He scents Dean and smiles.

“This was a wonderful idea,” he says. “Was this your idea? I think I dreamed about it.”

Dean chuckles and leans over to give his mate a kiss. “You told me about this last night when I put you to bed. It was very late and you were very tired, but I can’t take the credit. I’m many things, Cas, but mind reader ain’t one of ‘em.”

“I disagree,” Castiel replies, looking into green eyes flecked with gold and happiness. He hooks an arm around Dean’s neck and pulls him back down for a longer kiss, this time savoring his mate’s lips against his own before adding a few pecks. “You’re here. And I smell bacon and eggs and strawberries. You are definitely a mind reader.” He pauses. “Is it really after ten?”

“Yes, Sleeping Beauty,” Dean laughs. He pulls Cas up to standing and helps him out of the tub/bed. “Come down for breakfast and then you can…” Before he can finish his sentence Cas tenses and grabs his belly. Dean’s eyes bug out as Cas’ grip gets as tight as an iron band on Dean’s forearm. “Babe! Did I do that? Oh my God, Cas!”

“Nothing you did,” Castiel squeezes out between clenched teeth.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Dean whispers. Anxiety shoots through the room. They stare at each other for the next 11 seconds while Castiel remembers that oxygen can come in through his nose. And then the contraction is done.

He straightens and looks around before realizing that he still has a death grip on Dean’s arm. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, letting go but immediately wishing he hadn’t. It’s okay, because his amazing mate, who truly is a mind reader, hugs him close.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean says quietly, rubbing Castiel’s back. “That scared the crap out of me. Are you sure that’s false labor? I mean I wouldn’t know false from true, but that looked like a full-on contraction to me.” He pulls back to look into Cas’ eyes. “How long did that last?”

Castiel blinks. “About 15 seconds.”

Dean looks at his watch. “It’s 10:14. Hang on. I’ll be right back.” Dean leaves the bedroom as Castiel sits on the edge of the bed. The Alpha returns moments later with a pad of paper and a pen. “Okay. I want to know about each and every one of these things you have today, got it? I want the time and duration.” Cas smiles as he nods, but Dean just furrows his eyebrows together. “What? I’m serious, Cas. If anything, the doc is going to want to know this stuff.”

“No, you’re right, Dean,” Cas admits, but his grin is growing. “You just look so serious.” He stands and moves back into the bathroom, sitting on the toilet to take a leak. “Damn,” he says quietly.

“What?” Dean asks. They make eye contact again.

“I was just remembering that my parents are caught in a hurricane in Central America and no one has heard from them since it started.”

Dean sighs. “Come on down for breakfast and let’s check in with everyone, see if there’s any more news. Then we’ll call Charlie and Sam.”

Around an hour later, Gabriel is the one doing the checking in. “No one’s heard anything, baby bro,” he sighs. “I wish I had better news. I have calls in to the Doctors Without Borders people, but no one’s gotten back to me yet. I promise to call you as soon as I hear anything.”

Castiel has his phone on speaker so Dean can hear too. They exchange worried but resigned looks. “Thanks, Gabe,” Dean says.

“I know this is a stupid thing to say, Cassie, but try not to worry about them. It’s not good for you and Baby Gabriel.”

“We’ve been over this, man. We’re not naming the pup after you,” Dean laughs.

“Like ‘Indiana’ is any better!” Gabe snorts.

“We’re going with Han Solo Winchester right now,” Dean shoots back. He smiles at his mate who tries a small grin but it comes across as a grimace. “Hey, we’re gonna go. See you and Kali at rehearsal.”

“Yup. Hang in there, Cas.”

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Castiel sighs.

They hang up, only to hear Dean’s phone ring within seconds. He hops up to grab it. “It’s Sam,” he explains as he taps the green phone icon. “Hey Sammy, you’re on speaker.”

“Dean! Happy day-before-you’re-forever-hitched-to-the-last-person-you’re-ever-going-to-have…”

“Okay, hi, it’s Jess,” a feminine voice takes over. “Don’t listen to that. Sam, you’re in the same friggin’ boat, what the hell? Are you complaining?”

“This is what people mean when they say ‘arguing like an old married couple,’ isn’t it?” Castiel asks, his mood improving.

“You guys are totes adorbs!” Dean shouts.

“What does that even mean, Dean?” Sam wonders.

“I don’t know,” his brother admits. “Charlie says it all the time. I figured you knew.”

“Well, I’m not 12, so no. You guys all ready for the party tonight? Cas, I’m counting on you to be a good host and let the other guests try to figure it out too.”

“I want everyone to enjoy themselves, Sam,” Castiel assures him. “You may have more trouble with Dean. He can be quite competitive.” Castiel smiles at his mate, lifting his empty mug in a silent request for more chai latte.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean protests, making his way into the kitchen to boil more water.

“The boys have everything mapped out, Cas,” Jess pipes up.

“Yeah, even with some travel time and Dean playing, you’ll be home by no later than 1:00 am.”

“What the hell does _that_ mean?” Dean yells. “Hey, is this a team sport or are we each solving the murder on our own?”

“Everyone will be working in pairs, but I’ll pick names from a hat so it’s not a given that you guys will be together.”

Castiel arches an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well I certainly hope that we are on the same team, Dean. I have a feeling that you are going to be very good at tracking clues.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dean replies.

“Sam, your tuxedo?” Castiel remembers.

“Got it! Everything’s good.”

“Okay. So we’ll see you at Powell Gardens at 5:00 just because we can’t wait to rehearse,” Jess adds. “We’re planning to head straight over to the restaurant as soon as we’re done to help with decorations and greeting people,” Jess adds. “Cas, what are you wearing tonight?”

“And I’m out,” Dean says. He places the measuring cup of boiling water down in front of his mate but he doesn’t get off that easily. Cas grabs his wrist.

“Dark slacks, blue dress shirt.”

“The one that matches your eyes?” Dean asks, and he’s not kidding.

Sam snorts over the phone. “And I’m out. See you guys in a bit.”

“See you later, dads,” Jess calls out. “They’re so cute, Sam, I was…”

The call ends and they’re left alone, smiling. Dean pours the water over Cas’ tea bag, but once he’s done, Castiel leads him over to their living room couch. “Happy day-before-you’re-forever-hitched-to-the-last-person-you’re-ever-going-to-have-sex-with, Dean,” he jokes.

“Same to you, Cas,” Dean replies. “It’s almost here. We’re getting married tomorrow.”

“Yes we are,” Cas agrees, nuzzling into his mate’s neck and breathing deeply. Dean wraps an arm around Cas so he can rest a hand on that big, beautiful belly. “I hope we can survive the bachelor’s party.”

“Piece of cake, babe. The butler did it.”


	7. Friday Afternoon

**_5:05 pm_ **

Funny thing about rehearsals – relatively little rehearsing actually goes on.

They could blame it on the weather. It’s a gorgeous, warm Kansas day. Even at 5:05 pm the light breeze trickling under the arches that stretch across the concrete walkway to the Vineyard Pergola barely wicks away the slight perspiration that would otherwise keep Cas’ shirt stuck to his back and belly. The sky is a pale blue and there’s not a cloud in sight. Jess fans herself with a brochure she grabbed from the car, gently blowing a strand of blond hair off her cheek.

More accurately, it’s the company. Charlie met Cas’ niece about 20 minutes ago and now they’re BFFs; the redhead is swinging Melanie around in a circle as together they sing the words to Taylor Swift’s latest song. Benny and Dean are talking shop even though they’ve been expressly warned against it. Michael and his wife are taking in the scenery while Anna tries to get Hester off her phone. Gabriel and Sam are hunkered close, obviously hatching a new plan for world domination.

“All right, everyone,” a friendly woman with a brown bob and authoritative presence speaks up. She stops beside Cas, her easy smile communicating that she is completely in her element. “Greetings! Right Honorable Jody Mills here. I appreciate everyone being so punctual! Let’s get this wedding rehearsed, shall we?”

With that announcement, the wedding party coalesces and significant others drift off to the sides of the area. Charlie holds Melanie’s hand as she gets everything in order.

“Okay, I’m going to need Right Honorable under the pergola. Thank you. The belle of the ball, Miss Melanie, goes first, so you stand right in front,” she coos at the little blonde who smiles up at Charlie but shoots nervous glances at her mother. “Our next group is the Winchester side. It’ll be me, and then Benny, and then Jess, Sam and Dean.” Roll call springs the five into action and they line up in order. “Behind us will be the Novak side. Anna, Hester, Michael and Gabriel then Cas.” The Novak clan organizes themselves as Charlie continues, squatting down to get face to face with the flower girl. “So Miss Melanie, when you get to the first row of chairs you’re done, sweetie! You’ll go sit with Mom. She should be in the first row waiting for you. Anna, once you get to directly in front of RH up there, hook a right and walk to that pillar. I’m going to do the same but to the left for my side. That will get Dean and Cas together at the front, flanked by the best men. Alright!” she yells. “Cas and Dean’s Excellent Adventure, take one!”

And so it goes.

They talk about pacing and how long to wait before Anna heads down. Judge Jody, as Gabriel refers to her, walks the couple through their ceremony, a mix of traditional vows and their own. Gabriel pretends to have lost Dean’s ring while Sam takes the entire affair so seriously that his own wife playfully socks him in the gut. Cas blushes as Dean makes a big show of landing a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Yadda yadda, kiss. Yadda, yadda butterflies,” Charlie intones, “and we’re off! Happy couple first up the aisle, wait for four beats, best mens…Hey Cas? You want folks arm in arm or what?”

Cas looks behind him to see Gabe grab Sam’s arm and make goo-goo eyes as the two start walking. He shakes his head. “I believe we should leave it to each couple. It’s certainly not necessary.”

“I gotta go where the mood takes me, Samsquatch!” Gabriel mushes.

“Gabriel!” a sharp voice calls out. Cas’ best man almost gets whiplash as he swings his head to find his wife standing, a slender hand on her hip, leveling her best we-are-not-amused look his way. “Do not make this about you. It is about Castiel and Dean.”

Dean snorts, Cas digs into Dean’s side with his elbow and Sam looks like a kicked puppy. Gabe’s wide-eyed look quickly morphs into resignation. “Yes, dear,” he sings. Kali, Gabriel’s decidedly better half, shakes a finger at him while trying to stifle a smile.

They practice their way back up the aisle and although the grooms can’t see it, each pair boogies up the walkway. “Hey!” Melanie shouts, her head swiveling to Charlie to call out the crime. She’s been told repeatedly by her mother that this is serious business. Charlie gives her a big wink though and shakes her head, holding a finger in front of her lips in the universal signal of “we’re trusting you with a big secret.” Melanie beams and nods her understanding.

They call a break and everyone congregates under the pergola as Charlie starts talking the wedding party through escorting guests to their seats, where Bobby should sit and other details. Dean watches with a smile. It’s no surprise to him; when Charlie sets her mind to something the Omega is a one-woman force to be reckoned with. He spots Cas heading to the bathroom and after a minute, ducks out of his conversation with Sam and Benny about who’s in which car this evening to go check on his mate.

Cas looks up as Dean pushes through the bathroom door. Just as Dean suspected, Cas is making a note on the pad of paper Dean handed him this morning. “How’re you doing?” Dean asks softly as he stands by Cas’ side and peeks at the page. He can scent Cas’ concern and exhaustion.

Cas takes a deep, cleansing breath before he answers, leaning slightly against the strong shoulder at his left. He hands Dean the sheet.

“Shit,” Dean whispers.

“Not a word, Dean,” Cas grumbles.

“Eight, Cas? It’s 6:30 and you’re up to eight? We’ve gotta call this in.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Dean. They’re still hours apart, not minutes. The wedding’s tomorrow. Let’s just get through that, have a good time, and then on Monday I’ll call the OB.” Cas looks Dean in the eye, his resolve only hampered by what Dean now knows is a tinge of fear.

“Sweetheart,” he starts. Gentle fingers push Cas’ hair back from his forehead; perspiration from the heat and stress have caused it to lay flat and darken. He’s interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“I can’t leave you two alone in a bathroom, can I?” Charlie scolds. “Come on, guys, let’s get to some air conditioning and get our pasta on.”

Dean raises an eyebrow as Cas plasters on his game face and gives Dean a defiant look. Dean rolls his eyes but does the same as he turns to face Charlie. “Lead the way, Red.”

\------------------------------------------

Dinner is a boisterous affair. Everyone’s seated at a long table covered in white, eating and talking under a mural of a Tuscan villa. There’s plenty of vino and Sam is shaking a breadstick at his wife while Gabe howls in delight. Dean’s grinning, his arm slung over the back of Cas’ chair as Bobby tells Benny and Michael the story about how Dean found a pair of pink panties in a customer’s Camaro and was so embarrassed that he couldn’t even talk to the guy who owned the car when he came to pick it up.

Cas’ college friend Balthazar and his mate are in from New York looking very Euro in skinny jeans and deep V-neck t-shirts that probably cost as much as Dean and Cas’ dinner combined. Dean can’t help but shoot glances down the table to watch Hester deep in conversation with the two men, her hands moving quickly. And it turns out that Anna and Charlie have more in common than their hair color. They talk tech while Dorothy and Kali visit about the Chiefs’ record last year and their third-round draft pick.

“Hey!” Gabriel says loudly as he stands, cell phone in hand. He waves for the table’s attention, catching Cas’ eyes before reading. “’All Doctors Without Borders personnel in Nicaragua were evacuated to the Augusto Sandino International Airport on Wednesday ahead of Hurricane Christo and all have been accounted for. Doctors and staff will be released back to the DWB Nicaragua post as soon as it has been inspected and determined safe. Again, all DWB Nicaragua personnel are well and accounted for.’”

Relief and happiness flood the space as the Novaks and their families collectively heave a sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness,” Cas whispers into Dean’s neck. The alpha hugs his mate close, pouring comfort through their bond. They both startle when the pup picks that exact moment to kick Cas in the side. He instinctively covers the space on his belly with his own hand as Dean grins like a maniac.

Leaning down to put his face close to the baby bump, Dean says in a stage whisper, “Grandma and grandpa are just fine, pup. Now stop kicking Dad!”

Cas laughs, but he cradles Dean’s jaw in his hand and his eyes are shining. He feels 10 years younger in an instant, so glad that they finally have news about Naomi and Chuck, as little as it is. He looks up as a blond waiter arrives, his tray loaded with dessert plates. “Tiramisu?” the waiter asks the group.

“Tiramisu, brotha!” Benny replies.

\-------------------------------------  
Once dessert has been cleared, Sam herds everyone who’s going to the bachelor’s party out to the front of the restaurant where a few folks who couldn’t make it to dinner join the throng. Not too surprisingly most of the garage crew is there, specifically Jo, Garth and Ash. A few other Six Sigma folks Cas invited are also here – Bart, who started on the same day Cas joined Corcadia, and Alfie, the youngest guest at 23.

Suddenly Gabriel appears wearing a black fedora as a chocolate cigar hangs from his mouth. He hands out long strings of fake pearls and boas to the ladies. “All right dolls, I got some pretty things for ya, see?” he says, channeling his inner 1920s gangster.

Sam is right beside him in a hat and tie, handing out fedoras and chocolate cigars to the men. “You too, men. Suit up. I’m Chip Malone, lead investigator, and it looks like we’ve got a mystery to solve.”

Cas takes a hat and a cigar from his soon-to-be brother-in-law, a huge grin on his face.

“You ain’t takin me alive, copper!” Dean growls playfully, shaking his cigar at his brother.

“When I call your name, come grab your character profile,” Sam calls out. The guests practice their 1930s accents on each other as they get into character and read their backstories. Anticipation buzzes through the group and even the betas can sense the excitement. After 15 minutes Sam continues. “We all travel together, so there’s no racing ahead or anything. There are actually two scenes. The first is here and then Act II will be at a surprise location that is NOT a strip club. You can drink, right?” Sam asks Alfie with a smile. Alfie blushes but nods yes.

“Don’t worry, Alfie,” Cas confides. “If you decide not to partake in the alcoholic part of the evening, you’ll be in good company.”

“Damn right!” Jess pipes up, giving her co-worker a quick fist bump. “Cool people drink iced tea.”

“Guys!” Alfie insists, “I am old enough to drink!”

“You’ll marry that bum over my dead body, sweetheart!” Gabriel says loudly and all eyes turn as he stands in front of Jess. At first she’s shocked because seriously, Gabriel has been flirting with her new husband for the past four months. Gabe rolls his eyes and points his chocolate cigar at her character packet.

“Oh!” Jess replies, scanning her profile again. “But DAD,” she complains loudly, “I love him!”

“No daughter of mine is gonna marry some poor, no-good bartender.”

Ash is immediately by Jess’ side, flipping his mullet over his shoulder. “Uh, hey. Don’t talk to my girl like that, man. We’re, uh, in love, see?”

Dean’s chuckling out loud and even Bobby’s grinning.

“Honey,” Anna says to Gabriel, glancing down at her script. “Be nice to the boy.”

“You, wifey, just keep your nose out of this. Our daughter best do as I say or I’ll cut her out of the family fortune, you hear? You too if you don’t back me up.” Gabe’s strutting around like a peacock, waving his arms.

At this point Dean walks up and tips his hat to one side. “As the manager of your speakeasy, I gotta say boss, your fortune may not be as massive as you think. Even with watering down the illegal booze, we’re running out of money.”

Charlie scoots to Gabe’s side, linking arms. “Ricky, you promised me you’d let me sing tonight. I’m tired of playing second fiddle to Lola.” At this point, Jo steps right up to Charlie and looks her up and down, and for a second it’s easy to forget this is a play as the Omegas square off.

“Lookey here, doll,” Jo squeaks. “You’re second fiddle because I’m the star of the show, ain’t that right, Ricky?”

Gabe’s about to reply when Cas get right up in his face, his pregnant belly acting as a buffer that immediately has Gabe taking a step back. He looks down at his older brother and shakes his chocolate cigar right in his face. “Don’t forget that loan you took out too, Ricky,” he growls. “You have until tomorrow to pay up, or I’ll make an example of ya. I’ll fit you with some cement shoes!”

Balthazar is laughing out loud until his mate nudges him in the ribs.

“To hell with all of yous!” Gabriel shouts. “I’m going to the club!” He stomps off to his minivan, clicking a button on the key fob that has the side door sliding open. He turns, addressing the crowd with laughter in his eyes. “Well come on! We’re all going!”

“Drivers, raise your hands,” Sam shouts and Gabe, Dean, Michael, Charlie and Anna put their hands in the air. “Everyone pick a driver. That’s Act I. We’re all off to our next location!”

\---------------------------------

As always, Moonshine is filled to the gills with dapper men and lovely ladies who indulge their fantasies and step back in time. As the group pours into the big band club they’re greeted with silver, black and white art deco decor. A beautiful brunette in a rose pink satin dress and cream colored elbow gloves solemnly asks them for the password before steering them to reserved tables by the dance floor. A young man in a black tuxedo and pompadour sings “Be Mine” by The Heavy with the help of the eight-piece band at his back. Numerous women in strapless black dresses carry cigarette trays loaded with drinks.

Jess is beside herself, joy and excitement pouring off her as she grabs Sam’s arm and squeezes. They danced here on their first date and she just knows that Sam must have pushed for this location as part of the evening’s fun to make her happy. Cas is eyeing the environment with a half-smile as Dean slips an arm around his shoulders.

The group settles, ordering period cocktails and enjoying the ambiance. It doesn’t take long for Jess to drag Sam onto the dance floor. Gabe and Kali are right behind them along with Balth and his mate. Cas watches as Dean eyes them warily, shaking his head as his brother foxtrots Jess around the floor.

“Do you dance?” Cas asks over his non-alcoholic sloe gin fizz.

“Not really,” Dean murmurs, tracking his brother as he effortlessly guides Jess with a strong hand at her round waist, steering her clear of other dancers.

“Would you like me to show you how?” Cas offers lightly. Dean turns to look at his mate, eyebrows arched. “I believe we have another 45 minutes before the game resumes. And I’m sure you won’t mind following my lead.” He levels the playful challenge only to have it returned through their bond as Dean’s complete amusement.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Cas,” Dean replies with a smile.

They weave through a few tables to stand at the edge of the dance floor, Dean glancing nervously at the twenty or so people moving swiftly in front of him.

“Okay, alpha, let’s start with a two-step,” Cas says soothingly. He peers into Dean’s eyes and tilts his head. “You’re going to be fine. Put your hand on my shoulder.” Cas takes Dean’s other hand in his as he places a firm hand on his mate’s hip. Dean responds by looking determinedly into Cas’ eyes. “The pattern is ‘slow-slow-quick-quick-slow’ starting with you taking a step back with your right foot. Ready?” Dean takes a deep breath and nods.

“Slow, slow, quick, quick, slow,” they say together as Cas gently steers Dean onto the dance floor. Dean tries to look at his feet but can’t because Han Solo keeps both men from seeing the floor.

“Just look at me, Dean,” Cas smiles.

“Slow, slow,” Dean mutters, but his eyes never stray from the piercing blues that watch him lovingly. Pride and happiness float into the bond, and Dean can’t help but grin at the silent encouragement. Over Cas’ shoulder he sees his brother and Jess dancing up on them.

“Look at you!” Sam teases as he whisks his wife by the couple.

“They look so adorable…” Jess coos and then they’re gone.

“You’re doing very well, Dean,” Cas congratulates his mate. “Just think. We can do this tomorrow night at the reception.”

“Quick, quick, slow,” Dean grinds out.

“Relax, partner,” Cas says firmly. “This is meant to be a pleasurable experience.” And on the next quick-quick, Cas raises their joined hands and turns Dean in a neat circle. Dean stares at him with shocked wide eyes. “See you’re a natural,” Cas adds.

“Castiel, how is it that you can be so light on your feet when you have what appears to be a bowling ball under your shirt?” Balthazar jokes as he and his mate glide up to them.

“Balth, are you having a good time?” Cas asks, ignoring the comment but flashing a smile of acknowledgement. Dean’s grip tightens and Cas shoots a questioning glance at his man. It hasn’t escaped Dean’s notice that the dark-haired, blue-eyed man Balthazar brought with him bears a more than passing resemblance to Cas.

“Quick, quick, slow,” Dean whispers under his breath.

“This can’t be your first time dancing, Dean! You’re doing great!” the brunette in Balthazar’s arms remarks. Dean shoots him a harried but pleased look.

“Thanks,” Dean manages to get out and then Cas is spinning him again. “Give a guy some notice!” Dean croaks.

“I did Dean,” Cas insists. “I raised our hands. That’s the unspoken cue that I am about to turn you.”

“Well how about a spoken cue? Something like, ‘Watch out, I’m about to make you dizzy!’”

“Why would I do that, Dean?” Cas replies, shooting a quick look at their dancing companions. “It’s much more enjoyable when you simply relax and go where I lead you.”

Dean turns a slight shade of red. “Is this a power thing for you?” he teases.

“Of course it is,” Balthazar answers. “You’ve knocked him up. This is only fair retribution for the pain of childbirth.”

Cas laughs out loud. “Dean, you and I are having a conversation that does not include the words ‘quick, quick, slow.’”

Realization hits and Dean shakes his head. “You work this magic on your bosses too?”

“No, just you. And you,” Cas says to Balthazar, “are out of your mind if you think getting an Alpha to follow a two-step is equivalent to birthing a pup.”

“You tell him, Cas!” Balthazar’s mate quips. “Come on, troublemaker,” he says to Balthazar, who takes the opportunity to spin him.

Suddenly Cas has them off the dance floor as he drops Dean’s hand and takes three steps to lean against one of the white pillars on the edge of the room. Instinctively Dean knows what’s happening and shields Cas from the group, offering his neck so Cas can draw in the comfort of his mate’s scent while panting through the pain. Dean’s hand rests on Cas’ belly and he can feel the tense muscle underneath his fingers.

Not surprisingly, Jess is suddenly there as well, Cas’ own pregnant guardian angel. “In for four, out for four, Cas,” she reminds him. She looks to Dean. “How many?”

“Nine,” he whispers.

“Shit,” Jess whispers back.

“It’s fine,” Cas tries.

“Of course it is,” Dean answers. “It’s not like they’re minutes apart, right?” He looks at Cas expectantly. His mate just shakes his head. Then it’s over and Cas straightens.

“Let’s take a breather,” Dean offers. Cas is already heading back to their table, but Jess puts a hand on Dean’s arm and stops him.

“This pup is coming, and soon,” she warns him. Concern drifts from her pores.

Dean sighs and scratches the back of his neck before looking his sister-in-law in the eyes. “I think you’re right, Jess.”

“You keep an eye on him, Dean, and remember that the wedding is nothing compared to their safety.”

And that puts all of Dean’s fears into a sentence that resonates in his core. He stares at her and nods, a low growl at the back of his throat confirming the truth in Jess’ words. That primal part of his brain instantly connects the dots and he strides purposefully past her to his pregnant mate. Cas looks up as he approaches reading his expression and the emotions he is pushing aggressively towards Cas.

Play time is over. He _will_ protect his family.


	8. Saturday Morning

**8:35 am**

Naomi shoots a sideways glance at her husband, who’s fiddling with the air conditioning nozzle above his seat for the fifth time since they boarded. Chuck checks his watch again and sighs before reaching into the seat pocket in front of him and pulling out the airline’s magazine. He leafs through the pages, never stopping to read an article, which doesn’t surprise Naomi at all. The magazine is written in Spanish and Chuck has only mastered a few words and phrases. Translators are stationed at every Doctors Without Borders post, so many staff members like her mate never feel a need to learn the native language.

Their fellow passengers are reading, talking or nibbling on breakfast food they brought on with them, so spicy pork and cooked egg smells have saturated the cabin. A dark-haired man two rows up from her, an alpha leaking frustration and anxiety, looks up and down the aisle before popping off his seat belt and standing.

Chuck bristles. “Now we can’t take off,” he whispers nervously. “Why can’t people just sit?”

They’ve been parked on the tarmac for the last 30 minutes while airport personnel make another sweep of the runways to verify that all debris is clear before allowing flights to leave. It’s stuffy, every seat is taken, and at least three infants are crying. Naomi wonders how many adults would be too if it was socially acceptable to do so. She pats her husband’s leg.

“Charles, relax,” she says firmly. “Everyone is restless. There’s no use getting worked up. I told you to expect this type of thing.”

Chuck closes his eyes briefly and exhales. He knows Naomi’s right. Thankfully the captain’s voice crackles over the PA system.

“Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen. The airport has finished clearing the runways, an important safety precaution, and we are sixth in line to depart.” A few grumbles and some muttering surround them when the captain repeats his announcement in Spanish. “Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We should be taking off within 15 minutes.”

“Thank God,” Chuck says under his breath. His tired blue eyes catch his wife’s as he offers her a weak smile. “Next stop, Houston,” he adds.

\------------------------------------------

Dean scans his surroundings, unsure of exactly where he’s standing although the landscape feels familiar. He’s outside under a light blue sky. A hundred or so teens and adults stare from metal bleachers around him. Some are laughing, but most are talking to each other and looking his way. Dean’s pretty sure he doesn’t recognize anyone here.

Wait, this is his high school. Movement to his left confirms it as some guy in a brown lion mascot suit – complete with a red sweater emblazoned with a black cursive “L” – dances in front of the dugout, waving his arms at the crowd. Suddenly Dean’s on the pitcher’s mound, which doesn’t make sense because back in high school he played second base. He has a baseball in one hand and a glove on the other but something’s missing. Oh. He’s not wearing his uniform. In fact, Dean doesn’t even have to look down to realize that he’s completely naked.

A tidal wave of panic floods his system. He can hear the crowd’s laughter getting louder. Dean looks desperately for a face he knows. Where’s Cas? When he _does_ spot someone, it’s Bobby. The older man sits right behind home plate, his arms crossed and a baseball cap pulled low to sheild his eyes. Dean clearly makes out the word as Bobby calls him an “idjit” from 70 feet away. Dean’s face turns four shades of red.

It gets worse because Euro-chic Balthazar and his Cas clone sit down right next to Dean’s boss-slash-father figure. The pair laughs and Cas is there now, but he can’t even look at Dean. Something inside Dean’s chest crushes into a tiny paper ball as Cas sits with his head in his hands. When Cas looks up, his eyes are filled with misery.

Dean’s got to get out of here. He has no idea how he wound up trapped in the wide open space of his high school baseball field with no place to run, but he’s not going to stand here naked and humiliate his mate any longer. He sends a thousand apologies and fear and anxiety and remorse through the bond but Cas doesn’t seem to register any of it. The knowledge that he’s alone in his shame, cut off from Cas, and scorned by Bobby feels like a physical slap to his face. On top of that, he’s being ridiculed by a hundred strangers, but more devastatingly, by the one guy Dean is sure is Cas’ much cooler ex-boyfriend.

So he runs.

But now he’s in the senior hallway. Lockers stretch the length of it and he knows his clothes are in his, but it’s been so long that he doesn’t remember which one it is. Then the bell rings. Horrified, Dean stands rooted to the spot as doors fly open and teens pour out of the classrooms. He’s incredibly exposed again as these nameless faces laugh and sneer. This can’t be happening! How can he get away? His heart hammers in his chest. He needs to get home. He needs Cas.

“Dean?”

The alpha startles, his eyes springing open as he feels a warm hand on his cheek.

“Dean, it’s okay. You were dreaming,” Cas says soothingly. Dean blinks a few times until Cas in gray sweat pants and a white t-shirt, his hair still mussed from sleep, comes into focus. Concern clouds his blue eyes. “Hey, you’re fine.”

Dean rolls onto his back and wills his heartbeat to slow down to normal as he searches the ceiling for an explanation. The panic he remembers feeling in his dream surrounds him like an invisible cloud.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cas asks.

“Nah,” Dean replies, reaching out a hand to cover Cas’ wrist. He shakes his head, glad that they decided last night that they weren’t going to be separated on their wedding day in case Cas needed him. Dean chuckles as his mate comforts _him_ instead of the other way around. He takes a deep, cleansing breath and tries to smile. “Anxiety dream, I think,” he offers.

A small smile curls the side of Cas’ mouth. “Are you anxious, Alpha? It’s just your wedding day; nothing to be anxious about.” Cas scoots next to Dean and lays down at his side. He draws patterns on Dean’s skin with his pointer finger, making curly queues around Dean’s nipples.

Dean turns his head and smiles, the fear almost completely gone. “Not anxious about us at all. Standing up in front of 127 people? Maybe.” He reaches for Cas’ hand and turns it over, kissing his palm.

“You could just imagine them in their underwear,” Cas suggests, gently pulling his hand away to skim under the covers and down Dean’s belly to where underwear would be if his mate actually wore any to bed.

The smile on Dean’s face grows exponentially as he feels Cas’ fingers trail up and down his dick, which despite the scare, is rebounding nicely. “You want me to imagine Bobby in his underwear, Cas?” Which gets him thinking about other members of the wedding party and then… He stills Cas’ hand beneath the blankets and Cas arches an eyebrow. “What’s the backstory with you and Balthazar?”

“You noticed that, did you?” Castiel remarks.

“Uh, the part where you were college friends and now he’s mated to your long-lost twin? Yeah, I picked up on it.”

There’s something like regret or sadness between them now as Cas quietly studies the bedspread. “Balthazar and I were friends at college – roommates actually – until he wanted to be more than friends. At the time I thought I handled the situation correctly, but in hindsight I ran away instead of discussing it like an adult. I asked for a new roommate, was reassigned to a different dorm room, avoided him. Overall, I ruined a wonderful friendship and hurt a truly caring person who just happened to care too much.” Dean sends compassion through the bond, but he can tell Cas doesn’t think he quite deserves it. “I spent years trying not to take classes with Balth or turning around when I saw him in the coffee shop my friends and I used to frequent. Then a few years after graduation a mutual friend of ours, Meg, invited me to an art opening of hers and there he was with the first man that uh, also bore an uncanny resemblance to me.”

“Awkward,” Dean says playfully.

Cas chuckles. “Yes, it was. And of course I didn’t mention it, but it certainly seemed as though I didn’t need to worry about him pining away. We got to talking again and were able to put the past behind us. Now I have a friend who’s known me longer than most, and with whom I speak a few times a year. It’s nice.”

“So how many ‘Castiels’ has he gone through?”

“I believe it took him three before he found Inias.”

“Must feel good to know you made that kind of impression on someone,” Dean prods.

“Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that he just has a type.”

Dean snorted. “Right. His type is six feet of wicked-smart, tall, dark and handsome Omega with blazing blue eyes!” He leans forward to kiss Cas on the nose. “You’re way more bad-ass than Inias.”

“Hmm,” Cas replies. “I believe I could take him.”

That earns a laugh, and suddenly Dean is being rolled by one bad-ass Omega who now gingerly straddles his hips. Affection spreads out around them, warm and comforting like a homemade quilt. He places a flat palm against Cas’ belly and the two share the peace of their connection.

This is like the calm before the storm. It’s a good storm – a _very_ good storm of wedding chaos and newborn pup – but Dean’s no idiot. He knows his entire world is going to change in just a few hours. Maybe not so much on the outside, but being married to Cas officially closes a chapter of his life that he is honestly ready to move past. No more bachelor on the prowl. He’s got a family. He has a purpose.

His fingers climb under the soft cotton of Cas’ shirt, searching for the warmth of his mate’s skin. He looks up sheepishly. “I really like the name ‘Gabrielle.’”

“Dean!” Cas admonishes, a smirk flashing across his face. “How am I going to convince my other siblings that we’re not playing favorites?” He pauses, his fingers pulled magnetically back to tracing hieroglyphics on Dean’s pecs. “Actually, I was thinking that since you love baseball, ‘Shea’ might be a nice name for a daughter.”

The alpha nods, a smile gradually forming as he tests the name in his head. “Hey, that’s really cool, Cas. I like it. ‘Shea Gabrielle Winchester.’” Both of Dean’s hands are now under the t-shirt, strong fingers rubbing against the taut skin of his future husband’s stomach. “Are we sticking with ‘Han Solo’ for a boy because that is one awesome name.”

“You are ridiculous,” Cas replies, his eyes easing closed under Dean’s attentions and the bliss of the light scent marking his mate may or may not be subconsciously performing. “I call your ‘Han Solo’ and raise you a ‘Harrison.’”

A rumble of approval emanates through Dean’s chest until he reconsiders. “Um, the thing is, there’s been a Samuel in my family for the past two generations,” he says softly. “It doesn’t have to be the pup’s first name, but I’d like it to be in the middle.”

“Try it out, Dean,” Cas encourages. “Your son just threw a baseball through the neighbor’s living room window.”

“Harrison Samuel Winchester, get your ass in this house immediately!” Dean barks.

“Shea Gabrielle Winchester, put that boy down this instant!” Cas says sternly.

They laugh together and Dean can’t help but grin at how the pup shakes too, like he (or she) finds the joke as funny as they do. “They’re both fine names. It’s a shame we’ll only get to use one,” Dean comments.

Castiel cracks an eye open and squints at his mate.

“No! I mean in general, Cas. I’m not saying that we should have another kid right away. You know, unless you want to. I’m just saying that these are good names.” Dean closes his eyes since he can’t see past the foot he just stuck in his mouth anyway. He slides his hands down the back of Cas’ sweatpants, pushing them down so they curl below the baby bump, and massages the firm muscles of his mate’s very fine ass. “Hey, I hear wedding-day sex is one of the best kinds of sex you can have,” he jokes, deflecting to a topic he’s sure he can’t screw up.

Castiel looks into the green eyes of the man those hands belong to. “I understand that most couples are so exhausted by the end of the wedding day that they rarely actually have sex that night.”

Dean grimaces. “Hey, I hear wedding- _morning_ sex is one of the best kinds of sex you can have,” he tries again as one of his hands spreads a cheek and the fingertips of the other brush against Cas’ hole.

“You want to fuck me, Mr. Winchester?” Cas asks roughly.

They smile at each other and Dean’s brain instantly brings up the one fantasy he’s been thinking about for quite a while, something he’s never shared with another soul. He licks his lips and looks up at Cas. “You want to fuck _me_ , Mr. Winchester?”

The surprise on Cas’ face will be permanently etched in Dean’s memory. Huge blue eyes stare down at him and Cas’ jaw actually drops. Arousal tinged with maple explodes into the bedroom.

“Are you…yes, Dean! I mean, yes! Really?” Cas whispers.

“Mmhmm,” Dean nods, not sure he can say it again. He licks his lips again, feeling a little vulnerable about his request.

“Hey,” Castiel says, reaching a finger out to brush against his partner’s shiny lower lip. “I’ve never done it either. I’ll tell you one thing, though. What you do to me, Dean, it’s the most amazing feeling in the world. I hope I can be half as good for you.”

Dean grins and his heartbeat picks up a bit at how kinky it feels to want his Omega to truly dominate him. Cas is the only person he would ever trust with this. “What do I…”  

His mate is already sliding off of him and waddling around to the nightstand where he knows Dean keeps a bottle of lube. “Sit on the edge of the bed, Dean,” he commands as he hurries out of his clothes before finding what he’s looking for in the top drawer. Dean scrambles to obey, his smile only growing as he thinks about what they’re about to do. Cas returns and stands over him, making Dean’s dick twitch in anticipation. “You want to come with my cock inside you, Alpha?” he all but growls.

“Fuck, yes,” Dean whispers, his eyes locking with Cas’.

“I’m going to start by give you an amazing blow job,” Castiel promises him, his hand gripping the short hair on the top of Dean’s head. “I won’t let you come, but I’ll get you really close while I open you up with my fingers. Has anyone ever put their fingers inside you Dean?”

Dean shakes his head, letting a little gasp slip out when Cas gives his hair a tug.

“Have you? You must have tried it with your own finger once or twice when you fantasize about this in the shower. Am I right?”

“Shit, Cas,” Dean says softly. There’s just something about prim-and-proper Castiel saying crap like this in that gravelly voice that makes Dean as hard as a rock.

“Am. I. Right?” Cas demands.

“Yes,” Dean replies, blushing hard.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

The fingers gripping his hair are quickly gone. “Go stand with your back against the wall,” Cas demands. 

Dean stands, frozen, for about three seconds, and then realizes that this is about to happen. He quickly looks around for the best spot as Cas grabs a pillow off the bed and then pushes Dean flush to the wall. Cas' eyes never leave Dean’s as he drops the pillow and cautiously sinks to his knees. Dean notices the bottle on the floor but before he can say anything Cas has a firm grip on Dean’s now-throbbing cock and it’s all Dean can do not to gasp out loud. Cas pushes on his inner thigh so Dean widens his stance, closing his eyes as he realizes why.

 _Oh God, I shouldn’t want this_ , he thinks. _It’s wrong_.  _It’s so wrong. If anyone ever found out…_ Second thoughts whirl around in his brain and Cas feels them all through the bond, so it’s not surprising when the grip on his dick tightens.

“Dean, look at me,” Cas says.

“I…” Dean starts.

“Dean, it’s perfectly _fine_ to want this,” Cas insists. “And sharing this experience with you? I can’t begin to tell you how much it excites me. Consider me fucking you to be my wedding present.” There’s a teasing quality to his voice. When Dean looks down, he’s greeted by a smirk that easily slides into a smile. He exhales and nods, watching as Cas moves slow as molasses, his mouth obscenely open until it covers Dean’s cock.  

Oh, it’s like coming home. It’s warm and wet and exquisite pressure from Cas’ very talented tongue and Dean feels pleasure from his toes to his rapidly beating heart. There’s the drag of Cas’ lips against his length and the pull as Cas sucks against him. God, he’ll never get over this feeling. He glances down to see his cock appearing from and disappearing into Cas’ mouth and he can smell his own arousal and leather scent everywhere.

He’s breathing harder now and it hits him that he is completely at Cas’ mercy. Why he ever thought getting head put him in control of the situation is beyond him, particularly when the man below has a death grip on Dean’s hips and is forcefully pinning him in place. Then Cas puts his hands against the wall and does a few push-ups, using his arms rather than his neck, and Dean thinks that is sexy as fuck. He moans out loud and feels his head thump against the wall behind him. “Shit, Cas. Your mouth. It feels so good,” he mutters.

Then there’s just a nudge as Cas makes little wet circles against Dean’s entrance, not hard enough to breach but he’s letting Dean get used to the idea. Then it’s gone for a second and Cas takes as much of Dean’s cock in his mouth as he can and swallows. Dean groans and then a slick finger is back, gently sliding in about half way, and Dean whimpers. It’s not that he doesn’t know what this feels like because Cas was right; he’s played around a little before. It’s giving up control and placing his trust completely in his mate that has him breathing hard. Plus this dual assault sets all of his nerve endings on fire. Cas is doing amazing things to his dick and now that slick finger is slowly moving in and out. Dean fumbles for the door jamb and _Thank God_ he now has something to hold onto because he was _this close_ to grabbing the back of Cas’ head just to ground himself.

“Cas,” he sighs. “Oh.”

There’s a hum of understanding that makes Dean’s toes curl. Then the finger is gone for a half second and now two slippery fingers ask for permission. Dean’s never tried that before but he manages a quiet, “yeah,” that Cas thankfully hears because now he feels a little stretch and _oh, shit_. It’s only a few strokes until they’re both almost all the way inside him now. He starts to tense up because he realizes that this is nothing compared to Cas’ cock, yet it feels like so much.

Cool air tickles his dick as warm breath nuzzles into the short hairs at the base of his dick. “You okay?” Cas asks quietly.

“Feels good,” he pants. “Feels like a lot though. Jesus.”

A wet tongue licks up his dick. “Only going to do as much as you want, Dean. Tell me to stop and you know I will.” The mouth is back now, but only over the tip, and the tongue, _shit_ the tongue is circling and prodding at his slit. It feels so good that he’s almost forgotten that Cas is finger fucking his ass until those fingers start to spread out inside him.

Every reference to feeling “full” that he’s ever heard makes complete sense now as Cas’ fingers take up more space, gently pushing against him from inside his body and it’s the most amazing sensation. What really, really surprises Dean is how much he’s enjoying this. It’s terrifying, for some reason he can’t quite remember, but it’s also thrilling because although he’s experiencing something for the very first time, he feels safe. At that moment, Cas’ other hand grips the top of his thigh then slides up his side before easing back down and the warmth from those fingers reminds Dean of the very capable hands he’s in. Cas looks up at Dean and lets out what could only be described as a purr around the big dick that’s stretching his lips. Dean realizes Cas knows everything he’s feeling right now, including the fact that he’s pretty fucking close to coming.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Um, slow down a bit? Don’t want…getting too close,” he manages.

Cas slides his mouth off and Dean immediately wonders why in the hell he asked Cas to stop. And then he’s empty inside too and he fights against the loneliness that lack of sensation brings. He shouldn’t have worried. Cas has three dripping fingers gently pushing against his hole now.

“Breathe,” he hears.

So Dean does, and it’s not just his lungs that fill as Cas eases those wicked fingers into his body. His exhale is a low moan and he feels pre-come leak from him. Cas, bless him, keeps right on, rocking those three fingers ever-so deeper into Dean. There’s a faint rumbling that Dean assumes he’s making, but no, it’s Cas. Omega doesn’t mean weak or feminine or passive, obviously, because although Cas is swollen with their pup, he is actively taking Dean apart and reveling in his ability to satisfy his mate.

“Please, Cas,” Dean whispers. His legs aren’t going to hold him much longer; his thighs are starting to tremble. He’s never felt so bare, so exposed, and yet so completely connected as Cas’ fingers slide inside him, moving sure and steady, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Say it,” Cas coaxes. “I want to hear you say it.”

Dean swallows. He takes a big breath. “Fuck me,” he pleads. “Please, Cas.”

And that is most certainly a possessive growl from the pregnant man at his feet. “Bed. On your hands and knees.”

Dean about lunges onto the bed to obey. He can barely support himself he’s so turned on and strung out and _ready,_ so he leans down in a classic presentation, his face immediately flaming red as he realizes what he’s doing. When Cas sees his Alpha offering himself he just about loses the remaining composure he has. He stands for three seconds, panting with his own arousal, before he reaches out to touch his mate. “Can’t believe I’m…Dean you’re so amazingly sexy like this.”

In a flash Cas realizes his belly presents a few logistical issues. “Close your eyes, Dean, and um, stroke yourself lightly. Do _not_ come.”

Then Cas moves as quietly as he can to get the small padded footstool they just put in front of the glider in the nursery one room over. He places it against the edge of the bed before resting his hands on Dean’s hips. “The footstool is right below you. Can you slide off the bed and put your knees on it? Keep leaning over though. God you’re so…”

They both jump as Dean’s ass settles right against Cas’ hard cock. Dean leans back into Cas and both men groan. “Wait,” Cas gasps. Dean’s lubed up but Cas is leaking enough slick that he can wipe some off the inside of his thigh and slather his dick with it. “Dean, you’ve got me so wet,” he marvels. Two more times and his dick glistens.

Dean can smell Cas’ slick and his own cock weeps even more in appreciation. Then strong hands rub up and down his spine. “I’m going to go nice and slow. You’re ready. Just relax and feel. And Dean, I love you. I love you so much. I can’t…”

“Cas?”

“Yes! I’m sorry,” Cas mutters, but he feels Dean send him love and lust and excitement and a tumble of emotions that almost make Cas’ hormone-riddled brain respond with tears. The Omega shakes it off, lines up his cock and pushes slowly into the man in front of him.

Dean groans loudly as he lowers his head to his forearms. It doesn’t hurt, that’s not it, it’s just an incredible, overwhelming feeling of being filled and stretched. But that’s just the physical side. His emotions are all over the map. He’s let another human being inside his body. Not just any human being, but his mate. And they _fit_. They fit together like, like puzzle pieces or something equally ridiculous. Then all of Cas’ emotions slam into Dean and he does start tearing up because Cas is a wreck. And Dean suddenly realizes that he’s wrapped around Cas and protecting him even now.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean says quietly, both of them perfectly still except for the hyperventilating and the crazy heartbeats.

“I’m inside you,” Cas murmurs, awe lacing his voice. “You’re so hot. I’m _surrounded_ by you, Dean.”

“I know. I know. You feel really good, Cas.”

“What...”

And the spell breaks, just a bit, as Dean remembers who he is and who he’s with and that they’re a couple of almost-40-year-old virgins right now. “Rock your hips back and forth just a little.” He grunts as he registers how amazing it feels to have Cas in him so deep. “Yeah. Keep doing that but gradually start pulling out more before you push back in. You’re really going to like…”

The euphoria Cas sends through the bond literally makes Dean gasp. Cas grabs onto Dean’s hip hard as he moans out with each thrust. Dean melts into a pile of goo against the bed.

“Is this okay?” Cas asks. “Can I…”

“Harder, Cas.”

Then they’re both giving in to what they’re feeling, simultaneously sharing those sensations, and of course overwhelming the hell out of each other. Porn-worthy sounds fill the bedroom and their combined scents are like gasoline on this bonfire, only causing them both to get even more aroused. Dean’s going to explode, like physically explode out of his skin any second. “Cas, I need to come! Please!”

Cas pauses as he gets a bit of slick on his hand again and then he’s reaching as best he can without squishing his belly against Dean’s back. It’s perfect, though, because four strokes in and Dean’s moaning and spilling all over Cas’ hand. His mate has the presence of mind to grind the side of his hand against Dean’s knot, and then it’s game over for Dean. He comes again, calling out to Cas as long ropes of cum escape him. So of course Cas gets all of that through the bond until he has to let Dean go so he can yank his Alpha’s hips flush against him and empty himself inside his mate with a shout.

Dean slowly calms but the smile plastered on his face might be permanent, even after Cas eases out. There’s that feeling of being alone again along with the disconcerting sensation of something oozing out of his ass.

Cas chuckles as he lays down on his back beside Dean. “You get used to it,” he promises, reaching out to hold Dean’s hand. “Was that okay?”

“That was more than okay, Cas.” Dean laughs. "I think you know how ‘more than okay’ that was.” He turns his head to see his mate’s flushed cheeks and droopy eyelids, short brown hair a tornado of spikes. Cas’ chest is still heaving a bit. He is absolutely gorgeous. “What did you think?”

“Hmmm,” Cas purrs. “I would be happy to do that again any time.”

“Such a giver,” Dean smiles as he squeezes Cas’ hand. “Ready for a shower?” Before Cas can respond, Darth Vader's theme song starts playing from Dean’s cell phone.

“Charlie?”

“Charlie.”

“Shower first.”

“Yeah. Hey,” Dean says quietly. “What do you say we get married today?”

Cas’ eyes are closed but his smile is a mile wide, all gums and teeth. “I think my schedule’s surprisingly clear.”   


	9. Saturday Afternoon

**2:30 pm**

“Excuse us, please! Coming through!” Chuck calls out as he jogs through the concourse, barely keeping up with his wife who is hell-on-heels ahead of him. She’s dragging their smaller wheeled suitcase, striding purposefully in her tan slacks and white polyester blouse, while he’s jostling her carry-on bag from his left shoulder to his right. They push through the throng, trying to keep on the correct side of the flow of traffic, and bustle their way from George Bush Intercontinental Airport’s International Arrivals Building to the TerminLink train. Chuck checks his watch again, which unfortunately has the carry-on on his shoulder sliding down to his elbow.

He really can’t stand traveling anymore. Back in the day he could keep a level head amidst the overwhelming press of scents without finding himself affected by the stress, frustration, and sick smells that fellow passengers give off. But now, Chuck’s finding himself even more agitated than the situation calls for. He can’t help a longing glance at the smoothie bar as they rush by and finally stop at the train.

They have 18 minutes to get to Terminal B and their connecting flight to Kansas City, MO.

 “I’m getting too old for this,” he mutters.

“You’ll have plenty of time to rest once we board,” Naomi says, more to herself than to her husband.

Chuck just hums in agreement. What he really wants is a strawberry banana smoothie, dammit. His stomach grumbles, causing his wife to actually look at him.

“Charles, when did you eat last?” she asks, slight annoyance in her voice even though she feels personally responsible for her Omega’s health and wellbeing.

“This morning,” he answers distractedly. He’s peering down the tracks, hoping to catch sight of the train.

“Did you snack on any protein bars on the flight?”

“There are no protein bars, Naomi.”

“Yes, there are. I packed them in the carry-on.”

She reaches for the bag as a bell tone rings out on the platform and a recorded voice announces the train’s arrival.

“It’s fine,” Chuck says dejectedly.

His wife stares at him before turning to board the train. Safely inside and grasping a large, metal pole, she peers at him closely, taking in the grey stubble that litters his jaw and slightly dark circles under his eyes. Chuck turns away from the scrutiny.

“Chuck,” she says quietly. “What do you need?” Their bodies sway as the train picks up speed.

“A smoothie,” he replies. He can’t even make eye contact as embarrassment leaks from his pores.

Naomi tries to hide a small smile. Her husband is brilliant – one of the smartest men she’s ever known. From the moment she saw him in the University of Kansas’ bookstore she had been drawn to him; his determination and compassion had seemed like a bright beacon to her. She had been tortured by how much persecution and ridicule he had endured as one of only four Omegas enrolled in the School of Medicine. It made every protective, Alpha instinct in her body want to throw herself in front of him and take each verbal bullet.

She remembered how he had merely shrugged off the university’s mandate that he pursue obstetrics because it was considered unseemly for him to concentrate on thoracic surgery, which was his first love. Regardless, his unquenchable desire to help others drove him to become one of the most well-respected OB/GYNs in Kansas. Overland Park Regional sends him to speak at conferences around the country, a privilege he tries to embrace but secretly pushes him almost to breaking. He’s been awarded numerous honors by his peers and published five articles in the _American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology_.

But here, when he’s stressed and tired and hungry, he’s just her mate.  And he wants a smoothie.

“We probably have time for a quick stop,” she offers. Chuck’s head jerks up and he blushes. “But only if you promise to also grab some almonds for protein.”

“Deal,” he smiles.

\----------------------------------------------

**5:47 pm**

“Just breathe.”

“I _am_ breathing! Trust me, if I wasn’t breathing, I’d be lying on the floor right now,” Dean huffs. But he’s not as much breathing as hyperventilating at this point. He peeks around the corner and, like an idiot, starts counting how many people are milling about and taking their chairs in front of the pergola. As soon as he gets to 37 he just stops.

 _Breathe! This is a fucking nightmare_ , he thinks. He’s going to forget his vows and look like the biggest asshole in front of all of Cas’ family. Like they don’t already think he’s a stereotypical big, sweaty Alpha who’s only good for turning wrenches and knocking up his mate. Hester still asks him why he doesn’t get a _real_ job so he won’t smell like transmission fluid all the time. It doesn’t matter how often Cas explains that he’s the manager, not a mechanic, she still tries to insult him. And what the hell difference would it make if he was a mechanic, anyway? He did that for a long time. That’s a good job.

“Dean, seriously, please calm down. You’re getting very upset,” Cas says, gently placing a hand on Dean’s chest. The touch startles him out of his gloomy thoughts. He sighs as Cas peers at him, sending love and soothing emotions to him through their bond.

“Sorry,” Dean mutters, taking Cas’ hand in his. He takes a deep breath and is actually a little pissed that he feels better for doing so.

“If I had a dollar for every time someone told me to breathe this week, I could buy a nice steak dinner,” Cas commiserates.

“I’d rather grill us a nice steak dinner,” Dean replies. “You could make those twice-baked potatoes. Damn, those were good.”

“Hmm,” Cas agrees. “And you liked the bacon-wrapped asparagus, right?”

“Babe, I’d eat bacon-wrapped anything and you know it.”

“I do. Oh! I should have waited to say that,” Cas says mischievously.

“Do you take this bacon-wrapped asparagus to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Cas chuckles. “I do.” He runs a hand down the front of his mate’s suit, admiring the softness of the fabric under his fingers. “You look quite handsome, Dean.”

“This old thing?” Dean asks playfully. He knows he looks awesome. He chose the darker grey suit with a black bow tie and a light gray vest while Cas opted for the lighter grey suit and traditional black tie. He reaches out to straighten the yellow rose on Cas’ lapel but pauses as footsteps echo behind him. He turns to see Sam walking their way.

The best man nods his head in approval. “We’re lining up, guys,” he announces.

Cas gives his about-to-be-husband’s hand a squeeze. “Can I get a raincheck on dinner?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Dean grins. “I got this thing anyway.”

The trio moves to the head of the walkway as tinkling music signals that the festivities are about to get started. Family and friends take their seats. Dean can see the back of Bobby and Ellen’s heads in the front row on one side and Michael’s wife on the other, along with two empty chairs Cas reserved in honor of his absent parents.

“Line it up people,” Charlie says in a stage whisper. She catches Dean’s eye and he can’t help but smile. She looks fantastic, her red hair pulled up in a spiky bun and just a hint of color on her cheeks and lips. In a show of solidarity and a nod to their co-ed wedding party, the ladies _and_ the gents all sport suits. The women are in fitted, light grey linen without blouses, with the exception of Jess, who’s got on a white scooped-neck t-shirt under hers so she can leave the coat open to give her pregnant belly a little room. The men are in darker grey suits themselves but sport light grey and yellow chevron ties. Little Melanie is dancing at the front of the line in a dove grey dress with a lemon yellow sash, her bucket of rose petals swinging by her side.

“Red,” Dean says quietly, reaching out to Charlie. She turns and smiles. “You did good.”

“Aw, shucks, Dean,” she kids him.

“No really, Charlie. All of this. And I mean _all of this_ ,” he says, pointing between Cas and himself, “wouldn’t have happened without you. I owe you big time.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me, Winchester?” the redhead asks sweetly.

“Yes,” he replies and pulls her in for a hug. Dean kisses the top of her head. “Thank you.”

“Charlotte if it’s a girl, Charlie if it’s a boy,” she says with a laugh. “Now, let’s get you married, big guy!” 

Everyone stands as the processional starts, and it flows like clockwork. As he walks behind his brother, Dean spots Uriel and his wife next to Alfie. Jo is two rows up next to Ellen, the women's bright eyes and smug expressions clearly communicating that they know Dean is whipped since he agreed to participate in this shindig. Garth looks so happy that Dean wouldn’t be surprised if animated rainbows and unicorns started coming out of the woodwork like some damn Disney movie. He’s shaking his head as Ash gives him two thumbs up before swinging an arm over his date’s shoulder. Balthazar gives him a kind smile before looking past him. Dean has a pretty good idea who he’s watching.

Then he’s under the pergola with the most gorgeous middle manager he’s ever seen. Cas sniffs in an attempt to keep his emotions in check; his blue eyes look a little glassy. The pair turns to face Judge Mills, who smiles at them both as Cas reaches out and holds Dean’s hand.

 _This is it_ , Dean thinks. _I’m getting married. I’m going to be a husband._ He exhales and pushes every bit of love and excitement and joy he can through the bond. Cas smiles broadly but keeps his eyes trained on the judge like there’s going to be a test later and one of them should be paying attention. Dean schools himself, figuring if he misses his cue, Hester will never let him hear the end of it, when Cas tenses and the grip on Dean’s hand could almost crush bone. He stares at his Omega and then the judge, who has stopped talking. Cas gives her an imploring look, begging her to continue, so she starts back up, but the wedding party under the pergola leaks worry and confusion. Jess bends slightly to peer around her husband and check her boss’ face.

Cas is pale, his eyes are wide and he’s slightly pitched forward. Dean takes a half step closer, slips an arm around Cas’ waist and kisses his temple like this is all planned. Then it’s over and Cas slumps slightly against Dean’s strong chest as Right Honorable asks them about their wedding vows. Unbelievably, Cas straightens, stands tall and turns to Gabe for Dean’s ring as if he hadn’t nearly broken Dean’s hand not 60 seconds ago. It’s all Dean can do to not pull Cas to him right then and there. Cas calmly recites his practiced words of enduring love to his mate while everyone around smiles and coos.

Then time just stops. Sam’s tapping on Dean’s elbow and handing him Cas’ ring but Dean would swear he’s literally under water. His movements are sluggish and he hears a roaring in his ears as he looks at Cas and he’s got nothing. It’s his turn to talk and nothing comes out of his mouth. Dean turns slightly, offering a deer-in-the-headlights look to Bobby, Ellen and the first three rows before Sam’s hand on his shoulder brings him back. He takes a shaky breath and blinks. Cas gives him a smile filled with so much patience and understanding that Dean has to swallow down the lump in his throat. Damn, when did he become such a sap?

Fuck it. He couldn’t recite his vows right now if his life depended on it. So Dean just starts talking to Cas. “Um, I never imagined that one day I’d be standing here getting married. Sam, sure. But me? I never thought I’d get that lucky, you know? Never thought anyone would want to put up with me forever. But then I saw my brother’s boyfriend,” and Dean can _hear_ Sam roll his eyes behind him, “and that was it for me. Cas, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, man, but I hit the jackpot. You’re my snowy winter morning, cuddled on a sofa in a cabin in the woods, sitting in front of a roaring fire, sipping hot cocoa. You’re _home_ to me and…I-I can’t imagine being anywhere other than right here, next to this gorgeous bad-ass who’s literally about to give me a family, like any second. So, uh, Cas, I love you. Forever. Or at least until you can’t take it anymore and murder me in my sleep. Or Hester does. I’m gonna count every morning that I wake up next to you as a gift, and I’m damn sure going to try very hard not to f…screw it up.”

Someone says “Idjit” so clearly that the judge stifles a laugh.

So Cas starts laughing. And then Dean starts laughing.

“What’s a itchit?” Melanie asks in the front row.

Judge Mills’ voice rings out clearly so even the folks in the cheap seats can hear. “Do you, Castiel Novak, take Dean Winchester to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love him and honor him, in sickness and in health, for the rest of your days?”

Cas sighs and shakes his head at Dean, but the smile in his voice is unmistakable. “Yes, I do.”

“Do you, Dean Winchester, take Castiel Novak to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love him and honor him, in sickness and in health, for the rest of your days?”

“You bet your…”

“By the power vested in me,” Judge Mills interrupts, “by the state of Kansas, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss your mate!”

Dean pulls Cas close and kisses his forehead.

“Dean,” Cas admonishes quietly before his next words are trapped beneath his man’s perfect lips. There’s hooting and hollering and clapping and suddenly James Brown sings “I feel good!” The bridesmaids and groomsmen pull sunglasses out of their pockets and start boogying up the aisle as a stunned Cas and Dean watch and laugh. Guests on the garden side open small white boxes that Charlie handed to them when they first arrived. Breathy and excited “ohhhs” fill the space as forty yellow butterflies fly off to nibble on the hyssop, roses, lavender, and chrysanthemums. Happiness bubbles up in Dean’s chest as his friends and family dance in their seats or point at delicate yellow wings; it’s perfect.

“Shit,” Cas whispers. Dean’s thoughts freeze as panic fills his head. He looks at Cas pointedly. “Bathroom!”

Dean gulps, nods at his husband and then yells, “Coming through! Make a hole!” as he drags Cas behind him and up the aisle. As soon as Cas pushes through the restroom door, struggling with his belt, it’s too late. He looks at Dean in horror as wet seeps down his pants and floods his socks, puddling a bit between his feet.

“Shit!” Dean croaks. “Did your…”

“Yes!” Cas stares at him in complete disbelief.

“We’re gonna have a pup, Cas!”

“ _I’m_ going to have a pup! You’re going to pace around and tell me to breathe!” Cas practically shouts.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here,” Dean soothes. He grabs Cas’ face in his hands and stares into his eyes. The grin and excitement grow. “ _We’re_ gonna have a pup.”

“We’re gonna have a pup,” Cas whispers.

“Stay right here. Don’t move,” Dean orders. He pushes open the door and 127 pairs of eyes meet his. “We’re gonna have a pup!” he yells. The crowd goes wild. Dean spots his brother. “Sam!” he shouts. They make eye contact as Dean tosses Sam the car keys. “Pull her around and bring me the bag in the trunk, okay? And everyone, go to the party! Have dinner. Get drunk. Dance until you fall down! We’ll keep you all posted. Charlie, save me some of that damn pie!”

\--------------------------

**8:06 pm**

“Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know,” Chuck answers, his eyes sweeping the open space where a lively wedding reception should be taking place.

“Dad? Mom!” It’s Anna. She’s got Melanie on her hip as she about jogs to her parents. “What are…You’re here!” Naomi reaches out for her granddaughter as Gabe and Kali spot them and walk quickly to their side. Michael and Hester look up from their conversation.

“Where’s the happy couple?” Chuck asks, scanning the room again. There’s maybe 20 people here. “Castiel wrote that they were expecting over 120 guests. I don’t under…”

“Granpa," Melanie says earnestly, "Uncle Cas is making a pup right now!”

Gabe smirks, “We’re past that step, munchkin. Uncle Cas is _birthing_ a pup right now.”

“Water broke right after the ‘I do’,” Michael adds.

“Are you…Holy shit!”

“Chuck!” Naomi reprimands, holding a hand over Melanie’s ear.

“We’re just waiting for news,” Hester elaborates.

“How long ago?” Chuck asks. He spots a few folks eating dinner and watching their family huddle with interest, hoping for a baby update.

“Maybe 25 minutes, Dad.”

“And he’s four weeks early?”

“Give or take,” Anna agrees.

“They took him to Overland Regional, right?” Chuck glances at his watch. It would take 20 minutes to get there from here. If Cas’ OB wasn’t doing rounds, she may not even be at the hospital yet. He looks expectantly at his wife, who sighs and reluctantly gives Melanie over to her mother.

Suddenly another redhead bounces up to the group. “Hey there! Are you the missing parents?!” Charlie asks excitedly.

Everyone’s nodding as Naomi holds out her hand. “Naomi Novak. And you are?”

“Charlie Bradbury, official Wedding Wrangler and Winchester BFF. You guys are going over to the hospital, right? Can you take this to Dean?” Charlie hands a plastic grocery sack to Cas’ mom, but Chuck intercepts and peers inside. “It’s Bourbon Pecan Pie. I put a couple of forks in there so you all can share.”

Chuck shoots Charlie a wide smile. “Perfect! Hester, don’t tell them we’re coming. It’s Dr. Patel, right?” Hester nods.

“Dad, Mom, this was such a great surprise. Cas is going to be so happy,” Anna promises, pulling her mother into a hug.

Chuck and Naomi share an excited look before Naomi turns back to her family. “Kids, we were able to cut our tour short. So, the good news is we’re home now. Tell me the wedding was wonderful?”

“Damn straight!” Gabe chimes up. “We all looked awesome, Dean-o forgot his lines, there were butterflies and then your son gets dragged up the aisle so he doesn’t piss himself in front of 127 guests! You should have seen Dean stroll out of the bathroom carrying Cas bridal-style to that big, black muscle car and off they go, mad dash to the hospital!”

Chuck laughs and looks at his mate. “Let’s go meet our new grandpup!”


	10. Saturday Night

The energy in the car is almost palpable as Dean zips down the highway, driving at least 12 miles per hour over the speed limit towards Overland Regional Hospital. Castiel wouldn’t say they're weaving between cars, but Dean’s checking his mirrors and looking over his shoulder as he expertly keeps the Impala moving at a fast clip. The sun set half an hour ago and the sky is a blue-black cut by lighted signs on overpasses that tick off the exits like the second hand on a clock. It occurs to Cas that time and Baby’s 327 engine with her four-barrel carburetor are working against him.

Having imagined giving birth so often now, Cas’ brain is filled with a jumble of images as he stares out the windshield. He keeps thinking about the water birth, which obviously isn’t going to happen because he hasn’t even discussed it with Dean, let alone made arrangements to put a birthing pool on reserve. Apparently there’s a three-week waiting list. If Dean had been amenable, Cas thought he would call next week for a tour of the facility. He sighs nervously and worries that he’s missed an opportunity there. Dean senses his concern and squeezes Cas’ hand reassuringly, shooting him a giddy smile that Cas can’t seem to return.

He looks down, noticing absently that his other arm is draped protectively over his belly. He hopes he won’t be in labor long. That’s another huge fear. His father has told him so many birthing horror stories – like the time teeny Mrs. Tran had been in labor for 36 hours straight before she finally pushed poor Kevin, kicking and screaming, into the world – that Cas unfortunately has plenty of reasons to be absolutely terrified. He imagines walking the halls in a ridiculous hospital gown, his ass hanging out for all to see, as he keeps moving to keep the labor progressing.

Honestly, Castiel struggles to think of one thing he would like to spend 36 hours doing non-stop and can’t come up with anything, not even sex. He peers at Dean just to confirm and finally smiles. His mate – correction, _husband_ – is so amazingly beautiful that Cas can barely stand it. Dean is radiating Alpha happiness and pride as his thumb taps the steering wheel in nervous excitement and he sings along with Jon Bon Jovi. While Cas is now in the sweats and a soft cotton t-shirt that Dean stashed in a go bag he’s been keeping in the Impala’s trunk for the past three days, Dean is still stunning in his formal wedding suit. Castiel would swear his fingers have a mind of their own as he pulls his hand away from Dean’s to instead place it lovingly on the back of the man’s neck. Dean rumbles excitedly as a huge smile washes over his face as he instinctively turns his head to feel Cas’ long fingers curl against the short hairs there.

Dean’s wedding vows, or wedding confessions, still ring in Castiel’s ears. It’s amazing how even now, after almost a year of being together and mating and road trips and pregnancy bloat, Dean thinks _he’s_ the lucky one. Don’t get him wrong, Cas knows he’s smart and he’s capable, but Dean is…well he’s truly exceptional. He’s strong and effortlessly confident, yet simultaneously caring and loving. He’s so funny and takes life in stride. He never seems to question who he is and his purpose. And he’s the most handsome man Cas has ever seen. Dean could have anyone; Cas still can’t figure out what Dean sees in him. He’s a non-descript guy in a corporate job doing boring things with spreadsheets. He would pinch himself, but if this really is a dream, he’d rather not wake up, thank you very much.

Of course, that’s the moment the pup decides to remind him who will be in control for the next 18 or 30 years. Castiel grunts as he stares straight ahead and practices his breathing. Dean’s concern pushes at him but he ignores it, choosing instead to embrace the pain. It’s just a taste of what’s to come, so he better get used to it.

Because Dean’s driving a little more aggressively than usual, they’re making good time; almost too good. The hospital is probably only about seven minutes away. He’s seven minutes away from the reality that is giving birth, and pain, and a brand new life where who he is and what’s expected of him will radically change. What if everyone thinks he should give up his corporate job and his boring spreadsheets and stay home with the pup like a good, traditional Omega? Even worse, what if _he_ thinks he should?

Seven minutes.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks quietly.

“Huh?” Dean replies, surprised. He looks at Cas with worried eyes. “Of course you can talk to me, sweetheart!”

“Dean, I…” Cas swallows. “I’m not ready.” He pulls his hand away and plops it in his lap, suddenly afraid to see the look on his mate’s face. He feels the car slow down just a little as Dean struggles to process this information.

“Not ready for what, Cas? Not ready for the big event or, or not ready to…” He pauses as they exit the freeway and stop at a red light. Dean shifts in his seat. “Hey, what’s going on?”

When Cas gets up the nerve, he looks at Dean and, damn these stupid tears! “I was supposed to have another month. To prepare. A month to be Mr. Castiel Winchester and to go on a honeymoon. Dean, now we don’t get to go on a honeymoon. Besides, I never finished the book. I don’t know what to expect.” He sniffs and looks up in a vain attempt to keep that one tear from sliding down his cheek.

He hasn’t felt this lost in a long time. He’s always the one who identifies problems and develops solutions. Right now, though, he feels like life is happening – this pup is happening – and he hasn’t created a plan yet. He should have a clear roadmap with a SWOT analysis and measurable goals all laid out. He has none of that.

“Hey,” Dean says soothingly. The light turns green so they turn right, but Dean quickly turns into the next driveway and parks, turning off the car. The immediate silence has Castiel feeling like he’s finally pushed the pause button on this entire situation. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and exhales slowly through his nose, startling a bit as he feels Dean scoot across the bench seat and gently pull Cas towards him. Then a large, warm hand presses Castiel’s face closer, and safety and home and soft leather swirl up and embrace him. His heartbeat calms, his pulse quiets, and Castiel relaxes into Dean.

They sit like that for what must be only a minute or two but it’s a peaceful and calming minute or two. “What scares you the most?” Dean asks.

He pauses but the answer is on the tip of his tongue. “Losing everything I know, everything I’m good at. Failing. I’m terrified of failing at this, Dean, because it’s not just me I’ll be letting down; I’ll be letting you and our families down.” He snuffles against his husband’s suit coat, his arms loosely circling Dean’s hips. “They all expect me to know what to do. I have no idea what to do.”

“Hey,” Dean whispers, “you will never let me down. And no one expects you to know what to do. We’re going to be first-time parents, Cas. I’ll tell you right now that Bobby and Ellen fully expect to get 3:00 am phone calls from me. I plan to watch Youtube videos on how to put a diaper on a pup the entire time you’re delivering.” He kisses Cas’ forehead and slips his hands under his mate’s t-shirt to press soothing hands against Cas’ back.

 _That’s absolutely not going to happen_ , Cas thinks, his brow furrowed as he leans back to check Dean’s expression, hoping that the comment was a bad joke.

“What?” Dean asks.

“What?” Cas mimics back. “How about ‘There’s no way in hell you’re going to watch videos while I’m trying to pass a watermelon through an opening the size of a quarter,’” he growls. “Are you serious, Dean? That was your _plan_?” Anger and panic flood the front seat, sending Dean in a tailspin as his jaw drops in shock. “You were going to leave me to go sit and play Candy Crush on your goddamn phone!?” Castiel’s out of the car faster than a pregnant man in his mid thirties should be able to move, spurred on by adrenaline and righteous fury as he slams the car door and starts waddling away.

“Cas!” Dean shouts from the front seat, before clearing his head and jumping out of the car. “Hey, I’m sorry!” He jogs after Castiel, reaching him in five quick strides, but Cas is pushing him away.

“You would make me do this by myself?! What, this is the 1950s and you sit in the waiting room while I…I…You _ass!_ ”

In slow motion, Dean watches as his perfect mate -- calm, cool and completely-in-control Cas – rears back and punches him in the nose. _That’s a great hit_ , Dean thinks as he hears the cartilage crackle and feels pain shoot through his head. His hands instinctively cover his face and his eyes water. When he pulls his hands away, there’s blood on his fingers.

“Dean!” Cas gasps. He looks at the blood on Dean’s hands and then the blood seeping from the Alpha’s nose. “Oh my God, Dean! I’m so sorry! Oh shit! Are you…oh God!” Castiel hovers over his husband, piercing blue eyes filled with sorrow and remorse while tears he barely contained 30 seconds ago flow freely down his face. “I can’t believe I did that! I’m so sorry! Dean?” He waits for Dean to look up so he can assess the damage he’s done and see how angry or hurt his husband is.

Dean’s shoulders are shaking in what must be fury, but when he raises his head and laughs, Cas is completely at a loss. “You are a fucking bad-ass, you know that?” Dean chuckles.

“What?” Cas asks in disbelief. He reaches out but Dean swats his hand away before taking it in his own.

“What did you say to me in your kitchen that night? ‘I’m no shrinking violet, Dean,’” he says in a deep sing-song voice. “No shit, Cas! That was a damn fine punch, man.”

“You…you’re not mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. Surprised as hell, but not mad. You feel better?”

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Cas replies, surprised as hell himself.

Dean tentatively pulls Cas to him, ducking to the side as a joke. “I don’t know why I said that, Cas. I was just making a point, you know, that I don’t even know how to put a diaper on a baby. I wouldn’t leave you. I want to be there when our pup makes his grand entrance.”

“Her grand entrance.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean says smiling. “His. Her. Our pup’s. Sweetheart, I’m never leaving you. You’re not gonna be alone.”

Cas lets out a shaky breath and leans against his husband’s chest, the suit coat’s smooth fabric cool against his cheek. “I don’t want to be in labor, Dean. You’re never going to want to have sex with me again after you see this.”

“Hey. Epidural, man. You’re not going to feel a thing from the waist down. And I promise not to look if you don’t want me to,” he offers, grinning. Cas is warm and solid against him, his chest still heaving from exertion and stress. He pulls back to look Cas in the eye. “And I want to have sex with you right now. Damn you’re hot when you’re punching me in the face, all pissed off ‘cause your husband’s an asshole.”

“Dean,” Cas admonishes. Not surprisingly, a contraction squeezes the breath and all rational thought from Castiel’s body. He grabs Dean’s arm in a viselike grip. The Alpha’s concern morphs into admiration and he smiles, shaking his head as the skin under Cas’ fingers turns white. Dean wonders if he’s going to be more bruised than his husband by the time their pup arrives.

Once it passes, Dean gently leads Cas back to the Impala. “Okay, tough guy. Let’s get you to the hospital.” Cas nods in agreement and lets himself be led back to the car.

\----------------------------------------------------

“A little help here,” Dean calls out as he helps Cas, who’s pitched over with another contraction, slowly amble through the sliding glass doors of Overland Regional’s emergency room. A dozen or so people sit on hard, plastic chairs as they bleed or watch television, waiting for their turn to see a doctor. Ahead of them, two nurses in light blue scrubs man a check-in station. One looks up and over the shoulder of the couple who stand in front of the desk with their backs to the door.

“Okay, hey we’ve got one in labor and…dear, what happened to you?” a kind, middle-aged black woman, a beta, asks.

“ _He_ happened to me,” Dean chuckles. “You got a wheelchair or something? His water broke at like, seven.” They stop as Cas finishes panting and starts to slowly straighten.

The nurse walks out from behind the desks, grabbing a wheelchair from against the wall, and heads towards them. Dean notices Cas inhale deeply and look around, searching the room. His eyes sweep around too, although he has no idea what he’s looking for until the man at the counter startles and whirls around. A huge grin lights up what looks to be a tired face behind a layer of scruff.

Next to him, Dean smells Cas suddenly let out a wave of excitement and relief.

“Dad!”


	11. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading this fluffy, smutty nonsense! Your comments and kudos rock my world. If anyone would like to do an art piece for the very end, I'd love to see something that looks like a family photo with the word "...After." ; )

“Hey, son!” Chuck says soothingly, walking quickly to where Cas stands dumbstruck with one hand on Dean’s arm and the other on the back of the wheelchair Nurse Moseley scoots up next to him.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Castiel can’t believe it. He looks up and spots his mother, who’s smiling broadly as well.

“Surprise?” Chuck manages before reverently hoovering his hands over Cas’ belly. He looks up with pleading eyes. Castiel laughs and nods.

“Dean. Big day, I see,” Naomi says as she joins the group. Her smile shifts to a small frown as she tries to reconcile her son-in-law’s wedding suit and black eye.

“Yes, ma’am!” Dean replies as he helps Cas into the wheelchair, missing her curious expression.

“Glad you were able to make an honest man out of him before he became a father,” she jokes.

“What are you doing here?!” Cas repeats. “How did you? When? You’re okay?”

“Easy there, son,” Chuck laughs. “Let’s find out what’s going on with you and then we’ll fill you in, alright? How close are the contractions?”

“Okay, that’s my line,” Nurse Moseley interrupts. “What’s your name, honey, and who’s your OB?”

“Castiel Novak,” Naomi answers, “and…”

“Winchester,” Castiel says firmly. His mother and he lock eyes and she smiles. He returns his focus to the nurse who’s now pushing him down the hall as his little family trails behind him. “It’s Castiel Winchester as of 7:00 pm this evening.”

“Well congratulations, dear! You have had a rather busy day. And now remind me why your _husband_ ,” the last word a question and she tips her head behind her, “looks like a raccoon and sports a bloody nose?”

“Inconsiderate Alpha,” Dean provides from two paces behind them. “Didn’t think before I said something very stupid to the pregnant Omega with the mean right hook. I’m fine, really.” He turns to Naomi and asks, “Does it look that bad?” She nods and chuckles.

“Well, that’s not too surprising,” Moseley chides. “And who’s your doctor, Castiel?”

A new female voice pipes up an “I am." They turn to see a petite woman walking purposefully towards them from a hallway to their left, her white lab coat swaying behind her.

“Doctor Patel!” Chuck says in greeting. Castiel cranes his neck to watch his father, mother and obstetrician stop to talk as Moseley continues pushing him on his never-ending journey to the birthing center. Dean hurries to catch up, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder as Moseley skillfully navigates them up a ramp and down another hallway.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” he asks.

Cas looks up at him with a slightly dazed expression on his face. “I can’t believe they’re here, Dean. They’re really okay.”

“Of course they’re okay. Bet they couldn’t stand the thought of missing out on seeing you get married.” Dean looks over his shoulder to find Naomi power-walking up to them with a bag in her hand.

“Dean!” she calls out, the bag held out for him. Dean stops, shooting a longing glance at Moseley’s back as she continues to push Cas down the hallway, single-minded in her determination to get the Omega to his intended destination. “This is from Charlie Bradbury. She was fairly adamant that I deliver it to you. Something about Bourbon Pecan pie, I think.”

“Oh yeah!” Dean relieves her of the bag as he leans in for a one-armed hug. “Best day of my life, right here.”

“I hope fatherhood is higher on the list than this pie,” she laughs.

“Fatherhood, wedding, you guys being here and then pie. Oh there’s even forks!” Dean gives his mother-in-law a quick peck on the cheek. “You’re the best!”

Naomi watches him take off, shaking her head. She likes Dean. He’s a good man, regardless of Hester’s posturing comments to the contrary. Anna and Castiel’s emails have only corroborated her opinion in the months they’ve been in the jungle. She smiles broadly as Dean puts the bag on Castiel’s belly and leans down to kiss the top of her son’s head.

\--------------------------------------

Castiel opens the bathroom door with a sour look on his face. A worn, blue hospital gown stretches across the front of his body. They’re set up in a birthing suite so instead of a thin blanket, the bed is draped in a quilted, honey-colored comforter and a cream fringed throw. The lighting is subdued and warm. A padded rocking chair sits next to a comfortable sofa under a framed print of a canoe on a placid lake. Castiel imagines that the picture probably helps those in delivery visualize a “happy place.” The effect is calming and personal, unlike the clinical and sterile hospital rooms he knows are on the floors above. Unfortunately, at the moment it’s lost on him as cool air hits his butt, leaving him feeling anxious and exposed.

“We’re going to do a quick ultrasound to get a bead on what’s going on in there, and then we’ll hook up the fetal monitor to track the pup’s heartbeat during the delivery.” Chuck’s voice is soothing and his smile is filled with love as he watches Castiel waddle over to the bed, keeping his backside facing away from his father.

“Uh, he’s gonna need an epidural,” Dean interjects. He tries to figure out how to help his husband get into the bed but Cas just frowns, sits his bare ass on the sheet and starts scooting back. “I know there’s a time window on that, right? So, just to be clear; the less pain, the better.” Castiel avoids eye contact with his father, not contradicting Dean’s request, but his husband is close enough to scent his embarrassment. “Hey, don’t,” Dean chides before looking at his father-in-law again. “Epidural, Chuck.”

“Not a problem. Not a problem,” Chuck replies. He pulls the comforter up Cas’ legs to mid-belly. “Dean, let’s get this hospital gown up.” Cas squirms to help and soon the swell of his pregnancy is bared to the room while the comforter covers his privates. “So, this is pretty exciting, son! I can’t believe I made it in time to be here. I mean I expected to be here for the birth, since Mom and I cancelled our tour, but I’m surprised we even got here today! First there was the hurricane, of course, and then they shut down the airport for a couple of days. Then we were running through the airport in Houston...” Chuck moves his hands slowly over Cas’ swollen tummy as he talks, his fingers gently but skillfully prodding as he evaluates the pup’s position tactilely, when he pauses. His fingers move again and he studies the skin beneath them in silence.

Castiel breaks the silence. “Dad?”

“Let’s get this ultrasound going,” Chuck says calmly as he turns to the machine to his right, flicking on all the switches. He rolls the tall white cart closer to the edge of the bed and pulls out a drawer under the monitor that contains the conductive jelly he needs. Chuck squirts a good dollop in his palm and covers it with his other hand. “Just warming it up for you,” he explains as he glances from Castiel to Dean. “So, uh, Castiel, when was your last OB appointment?”

Cas frowns. “Probably two months ago. I let the wedding take over for a while. Dad, you’re starting to worry me,” he adds, looking up at Dean. The Alpha bristles and places a hand on Cas’ shoulder just as a contraction rocks him. Cas leans back into the bed and grabs his own thighs as he pants through the pain.

Chuck just waits patiently until it passes. “Don’t be worried,” he says soothingly. “There’s nothing to worry about. I just want to confirm something, and the ultrasound will do just that.” Chuck applies the warmed gel to his son’s belly before looking into Castiel’s concerned eyes. “I’m pretty sure the pup hasn’t turned, Castiel. The head is still up at the top of the uterus instead of pointed down and ready to move into the birthing channel. We call it a breech position. It’s not a problem, just means we have to take a different approach, okay? But let’s take a peek and see.”

The door to the room opens and Naomi takes two steps in before freezing, stunned by the anxiety that permeates the room. “Castiel?” she asks, striding resolutely to the bed and placing a hand on her son’s knee.

“Here we go,” Chuck says, eyes darting from the wand he’s moving slowly over the wide expanse of Cas’ abdomen and the screen that displays the grainy, black and white image for all to see.

“Breech,” Naomi confirms, and now there are four sources of anxiety instead of just three.

Chuck inhales and sends the biggest smile he can muster to the expectant parents. “So here’s the plan, guys. Breech position is handled in one of two ways. We can manually turn the baby, which means I use my hands to gently push the pup into doing a somersault and tip head-down. It’s called external cephalic version or ECV. Or we go for a Caesarean Section or C-section and we get the little guy out of there surgically. I’ll be honest, the turning procedure isn’t always effective and we may end up with the C-section anyway. With the C-section you’ll get your epidural, we won’t put you under or anything like that, Dean can be there with you and you’ll be a dad in minutes. You’ll also have a picture-perfect pup – no cone-head,” he adds with a smile. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s still surgery and different folks recover from surgery in different ways.” Chuck reaches out to pat his son’s leg. “What would you like to do?”

Castiel looks at his husband who shrugs. He drops a hand to his belly and quickly runs through the pros and cons in his head. “C-section,” he replies.

“C-section it is,” Chuck  repeats. “You want me to do it?”

The look Castiel gives his father has Dean barking out a laugh. “I doubt anyone else would be as invested in the outcome, other than Dean, and he’s not getting anywhere near me with a scalpel.”

“I thought you trusted me with your life,” Dean kids, leaning in to give his husband a kiss on the temple.

“Well I know you have more important things to do during the delivery,” Cas jabs back. He smiles as Dean blushes furiously.

“Alright then,” Chuck declares, patting his son’s leg. “One epidural, coming right up.”

\----------------------------------------------

**Group MMS >Sammy, Red, Jess, Benny, Bobby, Gabe: Pup is breech. C-Section. Cas’ folks are here! Chuck’s doing surgery. Will b a father in T-45!**

Within seconds Dean’s phone buzzes to life.

**Sammy: Cas alright?**

**Jess: Pup ok?**

**Benny: Good luck!**

**Gabe: Ur in good hands.**

**Bobby: Thanks for the update. Keep us posted.**

“Dean!” Castiel calls out. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, irritation leaking from his pores as they wait for the nurse to arrive with the epidural. “Seriously?” he asks, eyebrows arched high as he eyeballs Dean’s phone.

“Just giving everyone an update,” he says around a mouthful of pie, setting down his plastic fork and savoring the rich, sweet, nutty flavor as his phone pings again. Dean snorts, turning the screen so Cas can see the Darth Vader meme Charlie sent with the words “Luke, I am your father!” emblazoned across the top.

**Group MMS > Sammy, Red, Jess, Benny, Bobby, Gabe: Cas is fine but grumpy. Epidural on the way.**

Gabe’s name lights up with a picture of Grumpy Cat and Dean’s phone pings as the group LOLs.

“Dean.”

The Alpha looks up and sees the fear in Cas’ eyes. His smile fades as he gets off the couch and sits next to his mate, pulling him into a reassuring hug. He puts the phone up and snaps a quick selfie of them both. Cas looks worried but he smiles nonetheless. Dean types the word “Before…” and sends it and the pic to everyone in the group before tossing the phone down onto the rocking chair and pulling Cas in to scent him. “You’re going to be great, Daddy,” he murmurs in Cas’ ear. “Just think, in less than an hour, we’ll be holding our pup.”

“Less than an hour,” Cas repeats. He breathes in deeply and tries to let Dean’s scent calm him. The click of the door opening gets their attention and an attractive beta with long wavy dark hair and a knowing smirk walks in. Castiel feels Dean chuckle as he realizes that the nurse’s scrubs are covered in electric guitars.

“Alright boys,” she says with a smile. “My name is Pam, a.k.a. Doctor Feelgood, or more accurately Nurse Feelgood.” She starts laying out a variety of sealed bags at the foot of the bed, each one containing a sterilized piece of equipment. “I am here with the stuff that’s gonna take your pain away.” She gives them both a wink. “Why don’t you hop on down here, handsome, so I can give this hunk of burning love my undivided attention?”

Dean laughs as he slips off the bed and back to the sofa. Pam stands in front of Cas and places her hands on his knees. “How you doin’, sweetie?” she asks. “Feeling a little overwhelmed?”

Castiel nods as they look at each other, her green eyes inquisitive yet grounding, and for some reason he starts to feel lighter, less worried. They’re both smiling now, breathing at the same pace. His knees, then legs and slowly the rest of his body feel warm and relaxed. Contentment eases out of his pores and Dean slowly stands, his confusion apparent at Cas’ swiftly changing demeanor.

“There you go, hon,” Pam coos. She keeps eye contact and a constant smile focused on her patient but speaks to Dean. “Nothing to worry about, handsome. Your man’s in good hands. Now let me tell you what’s gonna happen. I’ve got some iodine, which I’m gonna use to clean up a spot on your back, and then I’m gonna insert a catheter in what we call the epidural space of your spinal cord. Then I’m gonna inject an absolutely lovely cocktail of chemicals that will effectively block pain transmitters from sending signals to your brain. Once it takes effect, you won’t feel anything from that point down, but you’ll be awake during the C-section so you can talk to this beefcake behind me. Do you have any questions?”

“How did you make me feel…”

“Ah, ah, now you wouldn’t want me to give away my trade secrets, would you?” she says mischievously. Then she gives Cas’ knee a pat and moves back to the supplies she needs. The warm sensation starts to ebb, but Castiel feels good. Not drugged but settled. He sends Dean serenity and happiness through the bond. Dean can only shake his head in wonder.

“Iodine is cold,” the beta comments and Cas twitches as the cool liquid is swabbed in ever-increasing circles on a section of his back. “Handsome, why don’t you let lover boy here give you a hug so he can hold onto something firm. This is going to pinch, sweetie, but I need you to remain as still as you can.” Dean steps into place, kissing the top of his mate’s head as Cas leans against Dean’s chest and holds onto his back.

“Breathe in,” the nurse says, “and hold it.” Castiel does as he’s instructed. The pinch is quick. “Now the catheter goes in and the needle comes out.” He feels some mild discomfort but concentrates on keeping still and holding his breath. “And exhale. Good job. Here comes the good stuff. Let’s get you lying on your side now, gorgeous.”

Twenty minutes later Castiel finds himself on his back in a surgical suite as a blue paper curtain blocks his view past the initial swell of his body. Dean’s decked out in his own blue paper suit, complete with matching hair cap and face mask. He sits on a rolling stool at Cas’ shoulder, his eyes smiling as anxious excitement wafts off him. Castiel moves his hand around, searching for Dean’s. The Alpha finds it and brings his head down to kiss his husband’s knuckles through his face mask. “You okay?” he whispers.

Cas swallows and shrugs. _I’m scared shitless_ , he thinks. _Everything in my life is about to change drastically._ “I…I feel fine,” he says instead. “About to be sliced open with a knife and then forever responsible for another person, but fine. Dean. We’re going to be parents.”

Dean nods somberly and then pulls down his mask. Cas watches a huge grin take over his husband's handsome face. “Gonna be parents, Cas. Hey, we’re doing Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny and Santa for as long as possible, got it?”

Cas nods with him. A shaky smile turns up the left corner of his mouth. “We should carve pumpkins and go to every Royals opening game.” The smile Dean gives him is blinding. “I hope the pup looks like you,” Castiel adds quietly.

Dean looks shocked at that and shakes his head bashfully. “Nah,” he counters. “This baby’s gonna have your beautiful blue eyes and crazy dark hair. I can just feel it.”

Chuck’s face pops over Dean’s shoulder. “Let’s meet my grandpup!” he says happily. “Dean, you want to come watch this? You’ve never seen anything like it.”

Dean’s eyes go wide and Castiel snorts in spite of the situation. “I’m good up here, Chuck, thanks,” he replies as his father-in-law shrugs and disappears from view.

“Gonna feel a little pressure now, son,” Chuck calls from somewhere down by Castiel’s nether regions and there’s a tugging sensation on his abdomen. Cas watches Dean look behind and over his shoulder as if he’s just glancing at something but his eyes are caught and his jaw goes slack and the next thing Castiel knows, his husband is up and standing just out of his sight, pulling the mask back into place.

“Dean?” he asks nervously. Suddenly he’s feeling all of Dean’s happiness and awe through their bond, and there’s a tiny wail and more pressure down there.

“It’s a girl, Cas!” Dean calls out.

Castiel tries to wrap his head around the fact that there’s now a tiny baby girl in his life, one he’ll someday get to walk down an aisle. Maybe she’ll have pigtails and freckles and a stunning smile like her father. Suddenly he _needs_ to see her, needs to know that she's real and she's here and safe. He still can’t see anything and the noise is moving away and not towards him. He looks around impatiently. Then Dean is back, quickly sitting on the stool and leaning close. In his arms is a blanket wrapped around a very red-faced little pup with a huge set of lungs, who is having one hell of a first day.

“Hey, little one,” Cas whispers, laughing nervously. “Hi there!” He’s blinking rapidly because there’s something in his eyes, so he wipes at them with the back of his hand before asking, “Can I hold her?”

“Hold on, sweetheart, they want to get all of her vitals first,” Dean answers, but his voice is almost drowned out by the tiny ball of fury in his arms. He pulls down his face mask and kisses Cas hard. “I love you,” he says into Cas’ skin. His husband’s excitement and joy hits him like a tidal wave and it all feels so surreal as he watches Dean walk away, Shea’s screams still audible from the other side of the room. Cas looks up at the ceiling tile and tries to steady his heartbeat.

“How ya doing, son?”

Castiel turns his head to find his father sitting on the stool Dean just vacated. He swallows, throat thick with emotion. “Good, Dad. She’s okay?”

“She’s perfect, Castiel. Quite the healthy soprano you’ve got there! You did great. Everything looks really good. We’re going to finish with the vitals, get you cleaned up a little more, then get you all back to the birthing suite so you can do some family scent bonding, okay? You hang in there. What’s her name?”

The smile Castiel offers is broad and a little wobbly. “Shea Gabrielle Winchester. Don’t tell Gabe, though. I have to explain that it has nothing to do with him. It’s Dean’s favorite.”

“What’s Dean’s favorite?” Dean asks. “This little dynamo? Yes you are as soon as you calm down, Baby Girl. Damn, why is she so pissed?”

Castiel reaches out his arms and as soon as he places the pup high on his chest and close to his neck, she quiets. He shuts his eyes and laughs in an almost giddy way. _That was pretty easy._ Maybe he’s more capable at this than he thought. He’s got a large hand against his daughter’s back, holding her securely to him, as he tips his head down to finally get a good peek at his constant companion for the last seven months. “Hi there, little one,” he says quietly. “Daddy’s got you. Happy Birthday, Shea.”

Then a gentle hand wipes the side of his face, blotting up tears Castiel didn’t know he was shedding. He looks up at Dean, who Cas is pretty certain has never looked this happy the entire time Cas has known him, and mouths the words, “thank you.”

“Happy Birthday, Shea,” Dean echoes.

“Alright, Winchester, party of three,” Chuck proclaims. “Your table is ready. Let’s get you all settled.”

“Yup,” Dean confirms. He sniffs loudly as he looks fondly at his family. “Let’s go.”


End file.
